Encoded
by alienated-alien
Summary: AU: The trunk was surrounded by an array of broad shrubs, coloured just as rusty red as the leaves of the tree they were gathered around. The sound that Jim had thought he had heard was louder here and he knelt down to spy through the twigs. Hidden within the thicket was a small child.
1. Prologue

Hey guys!

Boy, it's been a long time since I posted something. Sorry about that. I've been very busy with Uni and life in general. Not to mention that I also fell out of the fandom for like... five months? And then, four days ago I was pushed back into it because I decided to read one of my favourite Star Trek fanfics again.

Anyway, here is the Prologue to the 10,000 word monster I hammered out yesterday. It's not finished yet, I'll be putting up the first chapter soon, too. I just need to edit it a tiny bit.

As always, Star Trek does not belong to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Encoded**

Prologue:

The apartment seemed less than welcoming when shrouded in the darkness spilling in from the windows facing the street. Aravik adjusted the baby carrier strapped to her chest, carefully as to not wake her sleeping son.

She made her way into her bedroom, housing a single bed and a large wardrobe. Quietly, she pulled the suitcase from the bottom of the wardrobe and began to fill it with essentials such as clothes, toiletries and, of course, her son's baby blanket.

Aravik zipped the suitcase once the necessities were stored within and gathered up her wallet, making sure that it contained her ID card, the passport permitting her to travel interstellar and her credit card. She stuffed her wallet into the inside pocket of her jacket, picked up the suitcase and left the apartment.

She heard the door lock automatically behind her and released a soft, trembling sigh.

Her feet carried her down the two flights of stairs and out into the cold night. Aravik's eyes darted down towards her son's sleeping face. She had done everything to ensure he would not fall ill while exposed to the weather since she was not in possession of a car; the baby was tucked snugly into the carrier, wearing the warmest clothes she could procure and a knit cap to cover his ears.

Aravik moved through the busy streets, doing so very carefully to avoid being knocked into by an unobservant passerby. Perhaps taking a taxi would have been the better option but she did not want to risk using her credit card again and having_ him_ find her before she even reached the space port.

A sigh of relief escaped her chapped lips when the large structure of the space port began to rise in front of her. They were not safe yet, but close.

The space sport was pleasantly warm, causing a shudder to trickle down Aravik's spine as she stepped in from the cold. The sudden change in temperature and noise seemed to wake her son, causing him to shift and coo against her chest. Aravik brushed her palm over her son's back and made her way further into the space port.

She purchased a bottle of water for herself and proceeded through the check-in. Once she had given up her suitcase, she settled down on one of the seats to wait for her shuttle. Her son had woken completely by then, whining as he curled his chubby fingers into the front of her jacket.

Aravik unlatched the carrier and pulled her son out of it once she was able to remove it from her body. She then opened her jacket and undid the buttons on the left side of her tunic, a difficult task, seeing as she had to keep her son steady where he rested on her thighs. Finally, she was able to lift her child to her chest and guided him until he latched onto her nipple.

As she watched her nursing child, she was distracted by the way her son's eyes kept sliding halfway shut, a tuft of fair hair peeking out from underneath the knit cap. Somebody dropped their comm. cell and the child in her arms was startled, round eyes blinking up at her as if she was the source of the disturbance.

Her mouth twitched upwards just slightly as she trailed her fingertips over her son's soft cheek. It took a few second before the suckling sounds returned and the baby lost interest in everything but the breast he was nursing on once again.

A sense of regret and guilt established itself. Had this been the right decision? Was running away and endangering not only herself but her child the solution to the problem she had caused by trusting _him_? Aravik shook her head. She had no other choice; her morals forbid her to leave that man to use her research for his schemes. Even if it meant for her to abandon her home, her family, her life; the only thing she regretted was the fact that she had dragged her own child into this.

Aravik closed her eyes for a brief moment. She was selfish. She could have left her son with the few friends she had gathered in her time here. But she was unable to bring herself to do so, the thought of leaving her child too painful to even consider for more than a moment.

Her son hiccuped and unlatched, drooling as he turned his face to look up at her once more. Aravik fumbled for a tissue to wipe her son's face, then cleaned herself and buttoned her tunic. It took some shifting due to the bulk of her open jacket, but she managed to lift her son against her shoulder to burp him.

The voice of a woman declared the shuttle to planet Byron III ready for boarding and Aravik gathered the baby carrier to make her way towards the boarding area. A bus brought Aravik and the other passengers to the shuttle.

Aravik was the last to board. She allowed the young steward to guide her towards her seat, thanking the man with a polite nod. He smiled and promised to bring her a blanket and a baby seat before walking off towards the back of the shuttle.

Aravik settled into the cushioned seat after depositing the baby carrier in the compartment above her head. Her son was dozing against her chest and she was grateful when the steward did not speak upon returning with the blanket and the baby seat. He installed the seat quietly and stood back as Aravik buckled her child into it. She whispered 'thank you' and received a bright smile in return. The steward then offered the blanket he had been holding and left with a tiny bow in her direction to tend to the other passengers.

Seeing as there were no more than ten passengers, the shuttle was relatively quiet. The soft murmur of people talking combined with the slow hum of the engine being started was a relaxing alternative to the loud cacophony that had been Aravik's past few days. Her eyes began to slide shut, the stress finally catching up with her.

The captain's voice declared the shuttle ready for takeoff and as soon as he had spoken, the vehicle began to move.

This was it.

The point of no return. Her fingers curled into the armrests of the seat, digging deep grooves into the synthetic leather.

Aravik turned her head to look out of the window, casting a last glance onto the glowing lights of the city she had spent the last seven years in then looked ahead once more and shut her eyes.

* * *

And that was the Prologue. For anyone who's about to complain about the OC, she won't appear again. Not for a while at least. I am, after all, a Spirk shipper first and foremost.


	2. Chapter 1

And here's the first Chapter!

Oh, I'll be posting this monstrosity on AO3, too, probably. If I'm brave enough. AO3 scares me a little. It's so... new. To me, at least. I also noticed that my first fanfic, In Your Eyes has been tagged on tumblr? Peeps, seriously, that fic is horribly cheesy. *headdesk*

Anyway!

The chapters for this thing will probably be very long, sorry for that. I wrote this thing within two days and I can't stop!

Sorry for any mistakes, badly worded sentences and other things.

Enjoy! (btw, why does the line-thingy sometimes work and sometimes it's just like f-you?)

* * *

**Encoded**

Chapter 1:

The alarm's incessant beeping penetrated the pillow Jim had stuffed his head under without mercy. With a dramatic groan, he wiggled his arm out of the blanked cocoon he was wrapped into and slammed his palm onto the source of his annoyance, cutting it off mid-screech.

Grumbling, he wormed his way out of the blankets and slithered off the bed, flopping onto the ground with the grace of a drunken elephant and he might have caused just as much of a ruckus while doing so. Jim curled up on the rug close to his bed, groaning when the blinds were pulled open and Bones' drawl cut through the relative silence, "You know, when I told your Mom I'd keep an eye on you, I didn't actually expect to have to take care of a moody teenager."

"I'm twenty," Jim grumbled.

"Yeah, since yesterday," Bones grabbed Jim's arms and hoisted him to his feet, "And you're still just as much of an idiot. Now go take a shower and get dressed. You have Advanced Phonology at 0900."

"Ugh," Jim dragged himself into the bathroom.

He took a quick shower, scrubbed his face twice, brushed his teeth and shuffled back out into his room to dress himself. Once he had buttoned his slacks, he dragged a black regulation shirt over his head and slipped into his jacket, leaving it open for now. Jim huffed, looking down at himself. Red was so not his colour.

"You done with your make-up, princess?" Bones called out from the other room.

"Shut up, Bones," Jim moved into Bones' bedroom, crossing his arms in front of his chest at the sight of the older man putting on his Starfleet uniform, "Don't you have Culture Studies today?"

"No. Someone from the communications department caught a distress call from that Vulcan colony on Medea II. They called me in to help out in the medical bay aboard the _Excelsior_. We're leaving around 1500 hours so I have to get my crap together and head out. Wish me luck, kiddo."

"Wha... wait! You're leaving? On a mission? Bones! Why didn't you tell me?" Jim stumbled further into the room, gaping at Bones, "This is your first mission! You haven't even graduated yet, not to mention that you never did combat training! I mean, sure you finished your medical studies and you're in your seventh semester but what if something happens to you, the statistical likelihood that something happens to you is-"

"Jim!" Bones' warm hands were suddenly cupping his face, calloused thumbs brushing the skin beneath his lower eyelids, "What's gotten into you, kid? I'm usually the one ranting about the dangers of space, what's wrong?"

Jim huffed and covered Bones' hands with his own, "It's just... sorry. I don't know what that was. Probably still tired," he gave an awkward laugh.

"Sure," Bones drawled, brows still furrowed in concern, "I'll be back soon, alright? And I promise I'll come back."

A lopsided smile curled Jim's lips and he lifted his shoulders in an awkward shrug, "Yeah, uh. Anyway, why did they only order you to be on that mission? Why didn't I hear about this before?"

"It's a recent thing. The distress call came around 0300 hours, meaning, about five hours ago. I got the message to join the medical team on the Excelsior about an hour before you woke up," Bones explained, rolling his eyes at Jim, "You're not a medical student, Jim. The reason I was ordered to accompany the ship is because most of Starfleet medical personnel is currently being shipped to the Klingon border after the _Ambassador_ took a hit. You know all that, Jimbo, I'm sure you connected the dots two minutes ago."

Jim stuck his tongue out at Bones, "I'm a genius, but that doesn't make me Sherlock Holmes."

"Apparently, it doesn't make you humble either."

"Mom always said not to sell myself short and that I should be proud of my intellect," Jim grinned, patting Bones' shoulder with one hand, "Promise to take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, you too, kiddo," Bones pushed at him, "And now, get going. Just 'cause you're a genius, doesn't mean you're allowed to be late for class."

"It's just gonna be about Klingon Phonology again today, Bones," Jim whined, "And I already speak Klingon."

"Yeah, and I'm telling you the same thing I told you when you whined about already knowing how to speak Vulcan. And Andorian. And Orion. You are going to class," the doctor grabbed onto Jim's shoulders and turned him around, "Off with you."

Jim squeaked when Bones delivered a sharp smack to his behind and stumbled out of his friend's room with a pout. It was not Jim's fault Mom taught both Sam and him the various things she had learnt during her time at the Academy and even some of those she had picked up while still on active duty, including a wide spectrum of languages. It was due to this that Jim developed the idea of becoming the captain of a star ship, to explore the universe like his parents had until his father sacrificed himself for the sake of the remaining crew of the _Kelvin_, his mother and Jim himself.

Even twenty years later, no one was exactly sure what had caused the _Kelvin's_ warpcores to malfunction. There had been no indication of a problem until the Engineering compartment called the bridge to report a fire. After that, hell broke loose.

In the end, over four hundred people owed their survival to a man who was no more and the tiny Kirk family grieved for a father lost. Jim had been very young, but he remembered a time when Mom would stand in the kitchen late at night and bake one apple pie after the other.

It stopped when he turned five and from then on, her smile would grow a little brighter each day. She would start telling Sam and Jim about the day she boarded the Kelvin, barely two weeks after graduating. How she met George Kirk and how she despised his smart-aleck nature. She would speak about the stars, the planets they passed, black holes, strange cultures and languages.

All these things plus the fact that his mother was strong enough to overcome her loss and anger to share her love and knowledge made an impact on Jim. It made him hunger for more. His entire body itched at the thought of exploring the universe, to maybe be the captain of his own star ship one day, to make his mother proud. And that hunger, that itch was the reason he decided to join Starfleet.

How had he been to know that, while it would have been possible for him to shorten his time at the Academy by an entire year, his mother would refuse to let him drop the 'non-mandatory but recommended' classes? Jim loved to learn, he enjoyed listening to the explanations and stories each lecturer told them, but most of the time, especially when it came to computer engineering and linguistics, he found himself bored beyond belief.

Which brought him back to the situation at hand; why was it necessary for him to learn about languages he already spoke? He was Treasurer of the Xenolinguistics club for fuck's sake.

Jim huffed and tugged his shoes on. Bones could have had some mercy and let him stay in bed today, because the Phonology instructor might be nice to look at, but he was a pain in the ass. He grabbed his PADD from where it was lying by the door to his bedroom before marching out of their shared quarters.

He shuffled his way towards the main building and slunk into the lecture hall, deliberately choosing a seat in the row at the very back. Breathing out a soft sigh, Jim typed out a short message to his mother, informing her about Bones' departure. There was no way she would not be angry if Jim forgot to tell her about something important again.

The door swung open and Lieutenant Johnson stumbled into the lecture hall. Jim frowned. Johnson was usually a very serene and composed person and Jim found himself confused by the laboured manner of her breathing and the sweat making her dark skin glisten.

"I'm sorry," she coughed, a smile spreading across her face, "I am here to tell you all that today's class of Advanced Phonology will be cancelled. Professor Spock is needed aboard the _Excelsior_, due to an emergency call we received this morning. However, the class on Friday will take place, as Professor Lissan has volunteered to take over for Professor Spock's group. Professor Lissan's class will still be held on Monday, however, so the two groups you are separated into will remain as they are. I'm sorry for the short notice, I ran as fast as I could."

Jim chuckled along with the other cadets already present. Apparently, the speakers around the Academy had still not been repaired. Either that or no one found it necessary.

Lieutenant Johnson gave another polite smile then left with a sharp nod, not bothering to shut the door behind herself. Jim stood again, wondering if this was a sort of sign. With a shrug, he decided not to ponder today's outcome. Who was he to whine about a lecture-free morning?

Whistling, he made his way out of the lecture hall and skipped down the long corridor towards the front gate. Once outside, he stopped. What to do with so much free time? Jim glanced at the chronometer on his wrist. 0903 hours. Maybe he could go and take a look at the _Excelsior_ and give Bones a proper goodbye-hug.

Maybe snoop around a little, too. A tiny grin grew on Jim's lips as he made his way towards the bus station to take the next transport to the harbour. It took three minutes for the bus to arrive and Jim climbed into the vehicle, scrambling to pull his cadetID and the semester ticket out of his pocket. The driver waved at him to leave it and gestured for him to sit. Jim shrugged, plopping down on a seat and turning his head to gaze out of the window.

The bus took the short route towards the starship harbour but it still took almost an hour and a half to get there. By the time Jim arrived, it was way past ten and he had to hurry to get to the ship before the crew boarded and the place was closed off to the spectators around two so he would have enough time to find Bones.

The space beneath the hovering starship was a mess of red, blue and gold. Jim groaned. How was he supposed to find Bones in this mess?

Jim toddled closer, licking his bottom lip as he wiggled his way past various crates and kept his eyes open, hoping to spot Bones' scowling face in the crowd. However, his eyes were drawn upwards, latching onto the majestic structure above him. The ship's belly was of a smooth, silvery white, the glow emitted by the engines painted the _Excelsior's_ curves in a bluish hue. Various shuttles left the ground close to Jim and moved towards the open loading flap.

The _Excelsior_ was one of the smaller starships and one of the few capable of planetary landing without causing damage to the surrounding area. It was mostly used for smaller mission, seeing as it was not of imposing size nor in anyway constructed to win a war. It was still gigantic to Jim's eyes.

Fascinated, Jim began to walk once more, eyes fixed on the _Excelsior_ as he manoeuvred his body through the throng of people dashing from one side to the other, attempting to board the transportation shuttles as quickly as they could. At one point, somebody knocked into Jim, sending him sprawling onto the asphalt.

Maybe Sam had been right whenever he told him that he was not as tall and muscular as he seemed to think before he would throw Jim over his shoulder to dump him into the pond behind Mom's farm in Iowa. Jim huffed and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he glanced at his scraped hands and the throbbing in his bruised and bloodied knees began to make itself known. To avoid more embarrassing sequences, Jim hurried towards the cargo shuttles, hoping that Bones might be there to check on the equipment. The guy was paranoid, so there was a pretty good chance he would be doing just that.

The area surrounding the cargo shuttles was a little less crowded and a lot more organised; which was why Jim ducked behind a crate when he registered that Lieutenant Johnson was overseeing the procedures.

She would tell him to evacuate the premises for sure. After all, he was not allowed to be here officially. Not this close, at least.

Jim licked his upper lip and snuck closer to the unoccupied cargo ship on the right, dashing inside when Johnson began to turn his way. He felt like he was seven again and trying to sneak past his mother to get to the cookies without her noticing. Without thinking twice, he huddled between two crates, grinning when he realised that he had invaded one of the more interesting cargo shuttles. A few of the crates declared themselves as weapon containers and the others seemed to house tools and other equipment in case repairing was required.

Jim got comfortable within his hiding place, scooting against the cold wall behind him. It would be a while until the Excelsior took off and he would wait a little before sneaking out again. Maybe Johnson would have moved further away by then.

For a while he stared at the blinking controls, listening to the people outside move and chatter. Jim allowed his eyes to slide shut; he would just wait here for a little while.

The next time he opened his eyes he found himself still wedged between the two crates and his chronometer seemed to be the only light source. 2100 hours. Jim gasped and sat up, mouth hanging open as he listened to the silence around him. Penetrating it was the distinct hum of a dilithium powered engine.

_Fuck. _

Jim groaned. He fucked up. Badly.

Embarrassed by the fact that he had _fallen asleep_ in the middle of a starship being prepared for takeoff and then actually _sleeping through_ the takeoff, he wiggled out of his hiding spot. What was he supposed to do now? If he walked out he risked being thrown out of Starfleet. On the other hand, should not have anyone checked the shuttle before allowing it to take off?

Jim absentmindedly hacked the shuttle's board computer and unlocked the door, stepping into the dark cargo bay beyond. The floor was of a light swallowing black, dim spots illuminated a straight line leading towards the exit. Jittery and unsure what he would do once he had left the cargo bay, Jim began to walk.

For a moment he felt like crying. What if they really kicked him out? The son of Winona and George Kirk, thrown out of Starfleet for falling asleep in a cargo shuttle; well done there, James, well done indeed. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he carefully hacked into the control panel of the door, smiling when it slid open without resulting in another catastrophe.

One horrible mistake was enough for today.

Jim shuffled through the corridors, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket as he attempted to orientate himself. A difficult thing to do, seeing as he was unable to consult the computer and there seemed to be no one around. Another thing that seemed strange to Jim; he had expected a lot more people dashing from one end of the _Excelsior_ to the other.

He had also expected it to be a lot brighter. Instead, the lights were dimmed like they had been in the cargo bay. Of course, they emitted a lot more light, casting the white corridor into an eerie glow and making the entire hallway seem a lot more sinister than it needed to be. Jim was reminded of those holovids he used to watch with Sam, depicting zombie outbreaks and ghosts and other things people did not actually believe in but were still scared of.

A tiny yelp escaped his mouth when the door beside him slid open and an officer stepped out. Their eyes locked for a long moment of surprise, before the taller man's face contorted into a mask of annoyed confusion, "What're you doing here, kid?"

Automatically, Jim glanced at the man's sleeves. One and a half stripes; a lieutenant commander then. Jim hoped the guy would not be too suspicious about him wandering around the ship like a lost puppy.

"Uh...," Jim stammered, glancing down at himself for a second, "I'm trying to figure out where exactly I am?"

"Deck 15 which is the Cargo Bay. You're not even in your uniform yet, what the hell have you been doing...," the man's gaze became a little softer when he noticed the torn knees of Jim's slacks and Jim was pretty sure the guy had at least one child at home, "You should get that looked at, kid. You want me to take you to sickbay?"

For the first time in Jim's life, the word 'sickbay' made him smile, "Yes, that'd be great. Thank you."

The officer nodded and began to walk down the hallway, "Did you get lost? What were you doing?"

"Uh, I was supposed to check the cargo again, but I kind of fell and when I tried to get back, I must have gotten lost. It's my first time on a space ship, sir."

"Yeah, we've got a bunch of you fledglings on board. It's been a little chaotic the past hours. Bridge's been getting calls from all over the ship about Ensigns going missing," the man chuckled, shaking his head, "Most of them end up in Engineering or in the mess hall. What were they thinking stocking the ship's medical team with cadets?"

"Well, uh, I thought there weren't enough people left in the medical area since most of them were called to help out at the Klingon border?"

"Sure, but we would have had just enough people on board to take care of the ship. We've got cadets that intend on specialising in war tactics, for Heaven's sake. And all they do is run from one end of the ship to the other to deliver PADDs and collect signatures, 'cause they don't even know how the bone mender works. And that thing's about as complicated as a toaster," the man turned his head and smirked at Jim, "Something you'll be doing soon, too, I guess. You don't seem like the medical type."

"Uh, no. I'm more of the 'end up _in_ medical' type," Jim responded, offering a lopsided smile.

Apparently, it had been his dumb luck that he had not been chosen for the mission to Medea II. What was going on at the Klingon border that there were not even enough _medical cadets_ to make up for the lack of doctors on a single starship?

"Ah, makes sense," the man nodded, "My daughter's the same. Came home a week ago with a chipped tooth and bruised elbows because she took a tumble while playing; she's the reason for all my grey hairs, I tell you."

Jim chuckled, both at the fact that the guy might just be Bones' soulmate and the realisation that he had been right in his assumption that the lieutenant commander was a father. The officer led him towards the glass doors of the nearest turbolift. Upon stepping inside, the man pressed one of the buttons and Jim, distracted by the shiny interior, barely noticed as the lift ascended before the door opened once again to admit them into another corridor. This time, however, the hallway was brightly lit and filled with numerous officers dashing about.

"Hey," Jim turned to face the officer again, "I gotta go get down to Engineering. Sickbay's the first door on the left. You can't miss it; it's the big double door with the big, red cross on it. Take care, kid."

"I will. Thanks for bringing me here," Jim watched until the turbolift vanished from his view and then started walking.

He reached the large double door to sickbay seconds later and stepped inside, hoping to not garner any attention too soon. Biting his lip, he snuck further into the large, circular hall, eyes trailing over the empty biobeds and unused gurneys. The polished glint of medical instruments seemed daunting in the quiet atmosphere of the sickbay and the monotone beeping of a recalibrating heart monitor acted as its ominous accompaniment.

"Excuse me?" a female voice spoke up behind him, "Can I help you?"

Jim whirled around, coming face to face with a middle aged woman of Asian descent, wearing a doctor's uniform, "Uhm... yes, ah, I'm searching for Leonard McCoy, do you know where-"

"Christ, Jim!" Bones' voice rang out through the sickbay, "I told you to stay put. That viral infection is not something to be trifled with, you could have gotten the entire ship sick, idiot!"

Infection? Jim furrowed his brows, then squeaked when Bones grabbed his arm and jabbed a hypospray into his neck. It took a mere second before he began to feel dizzy, causing him to stumble as Bones began to pull him away from the other doctor, "Sorry, Doctor Wong. He's my patient and I was unable to finish treating him."

Doctor Wong nodded, relaxing, "Understood. But it would be prudent to take care of his infection quickly. We can't risk the people we are supposed to care for becoming sick, too," she winked at Jim, and he had the distinct notion that she knew that Bones was lying his head off, "There's a private room on the left that's unoccupied. I'll go and add Mister...?"

"James Kirk," Bones supplied, looping Jim's arm around his own shoulders when Jim's knees began to buckle underneath him.

Doctor Wong rolled her eyes, "James Kirk to the list of people aboard. Please, fill out a document regarding his status of health and the treatment you have administered," she turned around and began to walk away, muttering to herself, "Just like his father, should've know..."

They stood in place until Doctor Wong vanished into her office and before Jim was able to open his mouth, Bones started to rant, "You're lucky she likes me, you idiot! What were you thinking sneaking onto the ship, huh? Fucking hell, Jim, I take my eyes off you for one-"

"Bones!" Jim slurred, clutching his friend's blue shirt as he attempted to keep up with Bones' long strides, "It wasn' on purpose, I swear. I jus' wanted to see the ship an' say goodbye. I hid in one of the cargo ships until Officer Johnson left, but... but I fell asleep, y'know?"

"You...," Bones released a gurgling sound somewhere between a snarl and an incredulous laugh, "You fell asleep while hiding and didn't wake up when... and you honestly want to become a Captain? Christ Jim, if I didn't know you turned twenty yesterday, I would think you were five! You could have just sent me a comm. message!"

"But I wan'ed t' give you a proper goodbye hug, Bones," Jim mumbled, smacking his lips when they began to feel dry and his tongue refused to make an effort at aiding him to articulate properly.

"I really need to work on the formula for your immune system boosters. They make you act like a tactile drunk and it's embarrassing to listen to you," Bones dragged Jim into the private room, planting him into the biobed standing in the corner before crossing his arms in front of his chest to glare at Jim, "So you hid in a cargo shuttle."

"Uh-huh," Jim nodded, a bleary smile on his face as he reached out for Bones, "Was gonna wait for you, Bones. I really wan'ed to give y' a hug, y' know?"

"Yeah, I got that," Bones knelt down to inspect Jim's knees, "How'd that happen?"

"Somebody bumped into me an' I fell."

Bones rubbed his palms over his face, "I see. Okay, I'll take care of your knees... and hands, apparently. Then I'm going to fix this mess and you," he pointed a finger at Jim, "Are going to take a long nap, you hear me? That stunt of yours was ridiculous and more than unnecessary. I've seen toddlers with more common sense than you."

"Toddlers stick pencils up their nose, Bones," Jim whined, eyelids drooping dangerously.

"Exactly," was the answer he received, before another sharp prick in his neck told him that he had been jabbed with yet another hypospray.

Upon coming to, the first thing that Jim noticed was the smell of antiseptic lingering in the air and the fact that he had been bundled into a thin blanket. Willing his eyes to open, he blinked into the dimness of the room, locking onto the figure sitting beside the bed. A tiny, embarrassed groan escaped his lips.

"Jim," Pike drawled.

"Captain," Jim cursed his voice for deciding that now was a good moment to give up on him, turning his greeting into a squeaky scramble of letters.

"I was informed that somebody was careless with checking the cargo shuttles and caused a blind passenger to board the _Excelsior_," Pike continued, a lopsided smirk growing on his face, "Care to tell me why you thought it was smart to hide in a cargo shuttle, Jim?"

"To be honest, I don't know, sir," Jim answered, rubbing at his eyes, "I was curious, I wanted to see the ship before it took off and I wanted to go say 'bye' to Bo... McCoy. Lieutenant Johnson was overseeing the cargo ships where I thought McCoy might be. I hid because she would have recognised me immediately and sent me away. It was an honest mistake, sir, I didn't mean to become a blind passenger. It was wrong of me to sneak around the premises and I'm really sorry, but I didn't think something like this would happen."

"Jim, calm down," Pike sighed, a wry smile on his face, "You're not in trouble. One more cadet aboard the ship won't cause it to explode. You did not mean to be here and, quite frankly, it's my crew's fault you are present in the first place. Had the person responsible for checking the cargo shuttles paid more attention, you would have been found before it even took off. Now, what you are going to do is. You'll put on that uniform over there and you will stay here with McCoy. Doctor Wong has been kind enough to accept you as additional Ensign. I know it's not the best course of action, you are not trained in the medical expertise in any way, but I can't split another Ensign's work in two to fit you in. Not to mention that we can always use a pair of hands down here, even if it's just to work the bone-mender on a broken finger."

Jim nodded, deflating as the tension seeped out of his muscles, "Thank you, sir."

"It's fine. Not like you're the only one that ever snuck aboard a starship. Ensign Vro hacked into the database to ensure that she would be placed onto the Excelsior, too. We noticed the hacking too late and decided to use her knowledge regarding computers to place her with Lieutenant Marcus for the time being. I'm sure something good will come out of it. And... I myself have sneaked onto a starship or two back in the day."

"You...," Jim gaped, shaking his head at Pike, "You're not serious."

"Your father was a very persuasive man, Jim," Pike stood and made to leave, "Just, promise me this won't happen again. The next Captain might not be as forgiving and you could end up being expelled. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," Jim chirped.

"Good," and with that, Pike left.

Jim could not believe this. The solution to his problem seemed so simple and no one was yelling. That was definitely a first.

Alright, the last time he had gotten into trouble was for hacking the Kobayashi Maru and the guy who programmed it had been, of all people, Professor Spock. Now, Spock was probably the last person that would ever resort to yelling but Professor Spock had decided to make his sixth semester a living hell after Jim's method was deemed to be 'quite original and optimistic' by the Admirals.

So while there was no yelling, there were still consequences. Professor Spock had been subtle about it, sending him more homework in addition to the workload they already had been saddled with and constantly calling him out when he began to space out in class. Most of the time, Jim was able to pull through, but other times he had to bullshit his way through the Vulcan's ridiculously long questions.

It had been kind of fun, though. Spock was smart on a level that made Jim wonder what it would be like to work with him on a project. Jim _knew_ he was intelligent, he knew he could keep up with Spock. That was probably the only reason why he was able to finish all those extra assignments the Professor threw at him. Still, it was obvious Professor Spock hated his guts, probably because he was the 'most illogical human he had ever had the questionable honour of meeting'.

Now that Jim thought about it, was treating a single cadet differently unprofessional and illogical? Maybe he should ask Professor Spock about that particular notion. He would probably just receive a logical answer, Jim slithered off the biobed and shuffled over to the chair in the corner where a folded uniform was waiting for him.

Peeling himself out of his cadet uniform, he noticed that both his hands and knees had been treated; the wounds were now covered by new, still pinkish skin. Jim reached for his new uniform and started to dress. The slacks were a tad too long, but the black undershirt fit perfectly. The blue shirt confused him for a moment, before he remembered that, for the time being, he was part of the medical team.

With a heavy sigh, he tugged the shirt over his head, tied his boots and trotted out of the private room. Bones was waiting for him, arms crossed as he tapped the tip of his boot against the ground, "Doctor Wong thought it'd be better to tell Captain Pike what happened. He's got a soft spot for you, everyone knows that."

"Shut up," Jim muttered, "I'm supposed to help you out, _Doctor_ McCoy. How'd Doctor Wong figure out what was going on?"

"She's smart, Jimbo and I'm not that good of a liar. Neither are you," Bones led Jim over to the control panels and sat him down in front of the counsel, "Keep an eye on the reports and just yell out those that could be of importance or outright request medical assistance. You know how to work this thing, right?"

"Bones," Jim sighed, "I'm a genius, remember?"

"A little bit of humility would do you good, kid," Bones ruffled his hair and moved away, "I'll be over there. Just call if you need anything. Doctor Wong is in her office just in case you can't find me for some reason."

"Wait!" Jim called out, "Can I at least know where we're going and what happened?"

Bones halted in his footsteps and turned back around to speak, "We're on our way to Medea II to help out at the Vulcan colony. Apparently, they were attacked, but no one's quite sure who attacked, nor why. Medea II's a pretty scarcely populated planet, the Vulcan colony was placed there about three years ago, so I doubt they could have made any sort of enemies during that time. The attack was quick and ruthless, from what we know. The emergency call was just long enough to give us the gist of what happened, but we'll need to question the people that were present regarding the happenings."

"How many are dead?" Jim asked quietly.

Bones' scowl softened, "We don't know, Jimbo. But it's enough of a catastrophe to cause a stir. The Vulcan counsel demanded that everyone was to be evacuated from Medea II and brought back to Vulcan immediately after. The Admiralty managed to convince them that Earth was the better option, seeing as we're closer to Medea II. And, honestly, I'm glad we're not heading towards that furnace they call planet. There's only so much a tri-ox-compound can do and cooling you down is not one of those things."

A grin curled Jim's mouth upwards, "You're such a grump, Bones."

"You can't tell me that spending a week on a planet that makes you feel like you sat your ass in an open fireplace would make you happy, Jim. Not to mention that you'd be surrounded by those pointy-eared logic lovers. It's bad enough that I have to work with Commander Spock. The guy's a hardass."

"Right?" Jim exclaimed, grinning, "I told you! You never believed me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now get to work," Bones waved at Jim and walked back to his own station, sitting down to do whatever a doctor did when he was not taking care of his patients.

Jim furrowed his brows. What did a doctor do when he had no patients? Humming in thought he turned back towards the counsel and began to sort through the incoming reports. Most of them were uses of a regenerator for minor abrasions or burns down in Engineering. Three were cancelled requests for medical assistance, five were reports about suspected broken bones and one was an incoming report about a minor accident in Lab 2.

"Lab 2 requires medical assistance," Jim called out, "Second degree burns on both arms, palms show signs of third degree burns. Accident occurred two minutes ago and a cooling spray has been applied to the smaller burns."

He was barely done speaking when a young woman wearing a white coat dashed past him, a team of two Ensigns toddling after her, carrying her equipment. Blinking, Jim watched as they vanished through the double doors and another doctor stepped in, supporting a young man as he limped over to the closest biobed. The doctor shook his head with a sigh and moved away towards the bone mender. Jim winced. This was going to hurt.

For a few hours he kept on his work, calling out seventeen more accidents, before Bones patted his shoulder and told him that his shift was now over. Jim struggled to his feet, groaning when his backside protested quite loudly. He was definitely not made for sitting in a chair for more than three hours.

Bones smirked, "Come on, kid, let's put you to bed."

"I get a room, right? I don't think I want to sleep in a biobed again. I think I spent more days in one than in my quarters back at the Academy," Jim muttered, toddling after Bones as his friend walked out of sickbay through the double doors.

"You're bunking with me," Bones replied, "We need as many rooms as possible for the Vulcans we're picking up. You know how they are about privacy. I doubt each of them wants to stay in sickbay with a bunch of illogical humans."

"Wow, what did Pro- Commander Spock do to you while I was working, huh?"

"Guy's a pest. Went down to the science lab to ask him what we should keep an eye out for when taking care of a Vulcan. It's not like we have a lot of experience in that sense, right? Damn those secretive elves... anyway, he tells me that, as a doctor, I should know better how to care for my patients than he did. I told him that I would if his species would be willing to give Starfleet more information regarding their development and physique. I walked out before he started spitting logic all over me again," Bones ushered Jim into the turbolift and pressed the button for the third deck, stepping out a mere second later when the turbolift stopped once more.

"How's Spock even a Commander? I thought he graduated only two years ago?"

"He's Vulcan, Jim. That hobgoblin's just as smart as you. I can imagine that they practically lifted him through the ranks," Bones drawled, frog-marching Jim towards his quarters, "Here we are. Left bed is yours. I shower first."

Jim pouted, "Fine," he waited until the door shut and Bones activated the locking mechanism, before flopping down onto the bed fixed on the wall on the left side.

As he buried his face in the pillow, he heard Bones move away into the small adjacent bathroom and the sonic shower was activated a moment later. Jim dozed until Bones stepped out into their shared quarters once again, dressed in nothing but his underwear, "You can go take a shower now, Jimbo."

Jim got off the bed and walked into the small bathroom. He undressed, showered and looped a towel around his waist when he realised that he had nothing to sleep in. He stuck his head out through the door, "Uh, Bones? Do you-," a fresh pair of boxer briefs blackened his vision, "Thanks."

"Welcome," Bones grunted.

Jim slipped the underpants on and, after dumping his uniform into the sonic cleaning unit by the wall, wiggled under his blanket. He had not thought sitting at a counsel and reading reports would be so tiring. Not to mention boring. A tiny sigh escaped his lips as he wrapped the blanket around himself and buried his head in the pillow once again, "Night, Bones."

"Night, Jimbo."

Jim had not thought any sound could be more annoying than Bones pulling his blanket away to wake him, but the sound of the Starfleet issue alarm going off the next morning proved him wrong. Never in his life had he heard such a terrible, blood-curdling screeching sound. A moment later, the sound cut off and Bones stomped past his bed, "Of course we get the room with the broken alarm. Christ. That was terrifying. Jim, get your ass out of bed."

"But it's warm," Jim muttered, wiggling out of bed anyway, eyes still shut.

"I don't care, Jim, you're part of a starship crew now and you have responsibilities. Go, take a shower and then we're off to sickbay again."

"Ugh, Bones," Jim whined, squawking when Bones unceremoniously began to push him into the bathroom, "No, it's cold. The tiles are cold, Bones. I don't want to, please don't make me!"

"You are such a baby," Bones muttered.

Still tired and definitely not happy about having to get up so early in the morning, Jim took a quick sonic shower and was, once again, bombarded with clothes on the way out. After getting dressed, Jim waited for Bones to finish his own morning routine and followed the doctor down to sickbay. This time, Bones did not move away after Jim had settled in front of the counsel, but sat down beside him to work.

Jim was saddled with sorting through the incoming reports again, while Bones worked his way through the lists of people that had made up the Vulcan colony on Medea II. Once or twice Jim was distracted from his own work as he stared at the documents stating name, age, birthplace and various other information about people that Jim had never met and might never meet, seeing as he had no idea whether or not they were still alive.

The thought was depressing.

Shaking his head, Jim straightened his back and dragged his gaze away from the documents of a young Vulcan girl named S'el'es T'Lara. He really hoped one of the doctors spoke decent Vulcan. Otherwise identifying each victim would be a tedious process. A tiny grin grew on his face, "Hey, Bones, do you think they'd let me beam down onto the planet?"

"What?" Bones turned his head to shoot Jim an incredulous look, "Are you serious? Why would they?"

"I speak Vulcan. Perfectly, I might add. I could help ask the victims for their names," Jim responded, giddy at the thought of beaming down onto another planet.

Bones lifted an eyebrow at him, "Yeah, I'm sure that's the only reason you want to get in on the retrieval part of the mission. I'll talk to Doctor Wong. You're right; having someone on the retrieval team that actually knows how to pronounce these tongue twister names would be pretty useful. Although, I think they'll send a communications officer down with us, too."

Jim huffed, "Just one? Honestly, do you have any idea what's going on with the Klingons? It's been so quiet and suddenly we have barely any crewmen left on Earth to stock a starship with because they decided to unleash hell on us."

"I don't know, Jimbo. All I know is that I spent three hours teaching a bunch of Ensigns how to operate a regenerator yesterday while you slept in the damn cargo bay," Bones pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, "I'll talk to Doctor Wong about you joining the retrieval team, just don't whine at me when Captain Pike says 'no'."

Jim grinned, "Thanks, Bones!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bones waved him off, "Get back to work, you brat."

"Yes, sir," Jim grumbled, eyes fixing on the screen in front of him again as his fingers scrolled and tapped to review the reports he had missed, "Minor explosion down in Engineering, three engineers with second degree burns."

"On it!" a cheerful voice exclaimed and Jim was still snickering about the sheer enthusiasm it conveyed when the person had already vanished out through the double doors.

Jim's day continued in a steady, unspectacular pace up until Doctor Wong returned and, instead of addressing Bones, like Jim thought she would, turned the gaze of her penetrating eyes on Jim, "Mr. Kirk, I need you to go to the bridge and request a signature from Commander Spock," she held out a PADD, "Doctor McCoy has informed me that three of the Vulcans living on Medea II have the rare blood type T-negative. Commander Spock is the only Vulcan aboard and I need his permission to use the blood he was required to give for storage in the case that he might need surgery at one point."

"Uhm, but we've got more Vulcans in Starfleet, not just the Commander... shouldn't there be someone who-"

"Commander Spock's blood type is of similar rareness as the human blood type AB-negative. None of the other Vulcan members of Starfleet have T-negative, which is why I need you to request Commander Spock's signature. We were able to stock up on each blood type by raiding the storage at the Academy, but we still require Commander Spock's signature, since he never had to consent to being a donor, seeing as he was the only one with T-negative. Was this explanation enough for you, Mr. Kirk?"

"Uh, yes. Sorry, Doctor Wong," Jim stammered.

"Then I assume you know where the bridge is located," Doctor Wong's lips curled into an amused grin and, for a moment, Jim felt like a mouse sitting in front of a tiger.

"Yes, Ma'am," Jim grabbed the PADD and dashed out of sickbay, face flushed a bright red from embarrassment.

For the first time in his life, Jim wished that the turbolift would malfunction, but no such luck. He stepped out onto the bridge and nodded at Captain Pike when he glanced at him. Jim bit his lip as he toddled over to Commander Spock, catching himself staring at the broad shouldered Vulcan. Shaking his head, he moved to stand beside the Commander and cleared his throat, "Commander?"

Spock did not react for a second, eyes following the equations darting across the glass screen. Finally, he looked up, fixing Jim with the two pools of dark brown seated within his pale face that he dared to call eyes. Commander Spock's left eyebrow twitched upwards and Jim had the feeling that he was less than pleased to see him, "Cadet Kirk."

"Uh, Ensign. It's Ensign Kirk," Jim said, swallowing when the Vulcan straightened up from where he had been leaning over his counsel. The guy was a lot taller than he had thought and Jim unconsciously attempted to appear a little less short by tilting his head up, "Doctor Wong asked me to request your signature on this. The medical bay requires access to the blood you have given, but you are not registered as donor, since it was never needed before."

"I understand," Commander Spock pulled a stylus from the compartment at the left side of the counsel and tugged the PADD out of Jim's slack hand, "May I inquire why you are on board, Mr. Kirk? I cannot remember seeing your name on the list of crewmen before we took off."

"Uhm," Jim accepted the PADD back, taking care not to touch the Commander's long fingers, "Must've been a mistake made by the computer, then. 'Cause I'm here and... I gotta get going now. Thank you for your time and for your signature, Commander."

Before Commander Spock was able to open his mouth again, Jim hurried towards the turbolift and slammed his hand against the button labelled Deck six. Hopefully, this mission would not take longer than absolutely necessary. Jim doubted he would be able to do this again.

Chewing his bottom lip, Jim stepped out of the turbolift and scooted down the hallway. The double doors swished open and he entered the sickbay, making a beeline for Doctor Wong's office. He knocked and entered when he heard her call out, "I got the signature, Doctor Wong."

"Thank you, Mr. Kirk," she did not look up from her counsel, holding out one hand for him to place to PADD into, "You may return to your station."

"Yes, Doctor Wong," Jim evacuated the office and plopped down beside Bones once again, urging a heavy sigh from his mouth.

"What'd the hobgoblin say?"

"He asked me why I'm here, since I wasn't on the list. Which is apparently something he is allowed to have a look at... well, he is a Commander, so I guess it makes sense. I kind of implied the computer messed up and got out of there before he could ask again," Jim sighed, "I swear, if the guy wasn't so good looking, I would've switched into Professor Lissan's class. She's a lot nicer."

"Ugh, Jim. Seriously?" Bones' scowl turned into an expression of disgust, "The hobgoblin? Good looking? You're kidding me, right?"

"Oh, come on, Bones! You can't tell me you didn't notice those broad shoulders and muscled arms!"

"Christ, Jim. What are you, thirteen and hormone-ridden? Get a grip, that's your teacher you're talking about," Bones delivered a sharp smack to the back of Jim's head, "Get back to work, moron, before you start writing sonnets about the hobgoblin's ears."

"I could. They're cute."

"_Fuck's sake_!"

Jim laughed, eyes squeezing shut as he leaned away from Bones' flailing arms. They bantered back and forth like this for a few minutes until Bones was called away to help out with yet another victim of a lab experiment gone wrong. Wiping his face clear of the tears that had seeped from his eyes while laughing, Jim returned his attention to the screen.

Two hours went by before Bones returned, dropping a PADD into Jim's lap, "That's your order to join the retrieval team. You're welcome."

Jim gaped at the PADD for a moment then looped his arms around Bones' waist, squeezing the doctor as tightly as he could, "Thank you! You're the best, Bones!"

"Yeah, yeah," Bones extracted himself from Jim's grip with a pat to his head, "Try not to get into trouble. We're arriving in twenty minutes. Get your ass to the shuttle bay."

"Twenty minutes!" Jim exclaimed, scrambling out of his seat, "Bones!"

"What?" Bones drawled as he sat down, "Shuttle bay is on Deck 13, have fun, Jimbo."

Jim opened his mouth then squeaked when a hypo was jabbed into his neck, "_Bones_!"

"Yes, that's my name, don't wear it out. That was a booster shot, who knows what kind of spores you'll come in contact with on that planet. Don't need you having an anaphylactic shock on top of all this, too."

With an indignant huff, Jim stomped out of sickbay, joining a group of three as they filed into the turbolift. The turbolift spit them out on Deck 13 and Jim was promptly swept up in the less than organised jumble of blue, gold and red coloured shirts. Jim barely had time to orientate himself when his name was called out. After offering his PADD to the Lieutenant responsible for the grouping, he was shuffled into shuttle number 3 without further ado.

To his utter horror, Jim ended up sitting beside a certain Vulcan. Keeping his head down, Jim buckled the safety belt and did his best to seem inconspicuous. A hopeless endeavour; Commander Spock recognised him instantly, "Mr. Kirk, what is the reason for your presence this time?"

Jim swallowed, mouth opening and closing a few times, before he was able to spit out an adequate answer, "I, uh, I'm part of the retrieval crew?"

"Was that a question or an answer, Mr. Kirk?"

Jim winced, "An answer?"

Commander Spock's eyebrow twitched upwards, "Why was it seen necessary to have you accompany the retrieval team, Mr. Kirk?"

"I speak decent Vulcan and from what I heard, there was only one communications officer available that spoke it, too. So, I volunteered to help out with identifying and questioning the people down on Medea II, sir," Jim answered, hands folded in his lap as he stared at the sign above the shuttle entrance depicting the words 'Caution! Low ceiling'.

"I see," was all Commander Spock said in response before he turned to the man sitting beside him.

Jim sighed and dropped his head against the backrest. He would have thought Commander Spock would at least be somewhat impressed. But, apparently, impressing a Vulcan was a lot harder than Jim had anticipated. Maybe he should just give up trying to fix the awkward tension between them.

"Kirk?"

Jim turned his head to face the other side, blinking at the familiar face of Hikaru Sulu, "Oh! You're here too?"

"Yeah, I'm part of the security team for now," he gestured at the red shirt he was wearing, a lopsided smile on his face, "What about you?"

"Medical. Well, I'm basically the idiot who tells the doctors where the fire is. I don't even know how to read a tricorder to be honest, I mean, I'm in the Command track... but you know that," he bumped his shoulder against Sulu's, "At least you being in Security makes some sort of sense. Do you still fence?"

Sulu nodded, "Sure do. Pavel doesn't like it much, but hey," he shrugged.

"Pavel? You mean Chekov? That mathematical genius with the curly hair and the accent? Isn't he a little young for you?" Jim quipped, smirking at the older man.

"I'm twenty-one, you ass!" Sulu laughed, slapping Jim's chest with the flat of his hand, "And he's seventeen. It's not like we're doing anything either. Pavel blushes when I go as far as holding his hand, it's ridiculously adorable."

Jim snorted, "You're smitten."

Sulu sighed, grinning as his cheeks took on a pink hue, "A little."

Jim snorted, "A little. Sure. You're probably thinking about what to give him for Valentine's Day already. When's the wedding? I hope you intend on being safe, we can't have tiny, curly-haired babies running around Starfleet, you know?"

"Shut up, Kirk," Sulu groaned, "You're worse than my Mom!"

Jim laughed, "I doubt that. When my brother came home with his first girlfriend, she showed her all of his baby pictures. I have never seen a person go purple while laughing. I thought she was going to die right there in our kitchen."

"Oh God. You think my Mom'll do the same?" Sulu's face had lost the blush and was now of a worrying pallor.

"Definitely," Jim leaned over to whisper into Sulu's ear, "I'd hide those naked baby pictures if I were you."

"Kirk!"

"Mr. Kirk, Mr. Sulu," Commander Spock's voice cut through their banter with the precision of a well sharpened knife, causing them both to slam their mouths shut, "I would appreciate if you would cease this illogical conversation, or at least talk in a volume that allows the other officers to converse among themselves without being interrupted."

"Yes, sir," Sulu answered and Jim gave a quick nod, unable to even look at the Commander.

Silence permeated the shuttle for a few seconds, before the other officers picked up their own conversations once more. Once Commander Spock's attention was no longer upon them, Jim leaned into Sulu's space and whispered, "I bet he was just embarrassed because he remembered his own baby pictures."

Sulu scoffed and pushed Jim away, stretching to look towards the, now closed, shuttle door, "I think we're taking off soon. Our shuttle is full and I heard the shuttle bay flap open."

Jim nodded, "So, do you have any idea what happened? No one in sickbay was particularly informative. Either that or they really had no idea."

"Well, I just know what the security officers gossip about. They say the Klingons decided to use terrorism to screw with Starfleet. But I don't know. That doesn't sound like them, right? They're warriors, they're brutal but they also value honour. Terrorism was never part of their war strategy; they see it as the coward's way. Still, we should wait until we're on the planet before trying to analyse the situation."

"True," Jim acquiesced, deflating as the atmosphere grew sombre. "How many do you think died?"

"I don't know," Sulu answered, subdued, "I hope no one died, but I know that's stupid. There are always losses when it comes to war."

Jim hummed and shut his eyes when the shuttle wobbled ever so slightly, leaving the ground as it moved out of the shuttle bay and into the open. He could hear the hum of the engine, felt the shuttle enter the planet's atmosphere and travel downwards, the sensation in his stomach not unlike the one he would get while on a roller coaster.

Finally, the shuttle touched down and released a soft hiss when the door opened automatically. Jim opened his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt. Being one of those closest to the door, Jim used his advantage and stumbled out of the shuttle first. Blinking into the bright sunlight, Jim's eagerness was quickly quenched by the sight of a small city left in ruins.

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*hides* Unnnghhh... this thing is so bad.


	3. Chapter 2

Heya! Here's the second chapter.

I can't believe I managed to hammer this thing out so fast is insane. Uhm... anyway! Thank you for the kind reviews!

To the two guests that commented: I can't answer you via PM, since you're not logged in/part of . So, I have to answer here:

Guest 1: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the Cadet/Professor thing they have going on. :)

Guest 2: Thank you! Yes, the rating will go up some time in the future!

I apologise for any errors you may find!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Encoded **

Chapter 2:

Jim finished handing out blankets to the group of pale-faced Vulcan children seated close to one of the heating devices they had set up for the time being. Of the six-thousand Vulcans that had been living on Medea II, merely three-thousand and fifty two had survived the attack. Ten of them had been taken to the _Excelsior_ immediately due to the severity of their injuries; the others would follow once every single Vulcan was found, whether or not they were dead or alive.

Before Jim had been degraded to handing out blankets, he had been entrusted with the task to ask for names and information regarding those that were still missing. By the time he was done, there were five names left on the list. A small group was sent out to find the five missing Vulcans and Jim was given a stack of blankets to give out.

Sighing, Jim tried to figure out what to do, now that he was rendered useless.

In the end, he decided to explore the makeshift camp's border. Jim climbed over remains of broken buildings littering the ground, most of them either pulverized or turned into sharp-edged boulders. The forest beyond the border was made up of large, thin trees, the barks an off-white, the leaves rust-coloured. The branches were thin, reaching up towards the sky like the arms of those suffering from starvation.

Jim glanced over his shoulder towards the campsite then moved further into the thicket, tugging his comm. unit out of his pocket in case he got lost.

The forest seemed to swallow every sound and Jim was tempted to rub at his own ears, hoping to re-establish the noise volume somehow. Even his own footsteps sounded as if he was walking on a sheet of cotton. Furrowing his brows, he inspected the trees, then the ground. A thick sheet of pale moss covered the earth, explaining why Jim's boots created almost no noise. Jim further concluded that the overall absence of birds and such must stem from the fact that the attack had caused the resident animals to flee.

Jim stumbled through the forest, using the comm. unit's build-in compass to navigate. Maybe he should head back. There seemed to be nothing of interest here and he was certain that Bones would murder him if he had an allergic reaction out here in the woods.

With a soft sigh, Jim stopped in his tracks, glancing at his comm. unit to determine in which direction he had to walk to get back to the campsite. He had headed west when stepping into the forest and was now... Jim looked upon registering a soft sound.

At least, Jim thought he heard something. It might have been a mere feeling, that knowledge that he was not as alone as he might have thought. Frowning, Jim began to move towards whatever it was that confused his senses.

Finally, he stood in front of one of the older trees, tall and thicker than the others, branches lowered due to the weight of each of them. The trunk was surrounded by an array of broad shrubs, coloured just as rusty red as the leaves of the tree they were gathered around. The sound that Jim had thought he had heard was louder here and he knelt down to spy through the twigs.

Hidden within the thicket was a small child.

Jim was too stunned to even react for a moment. Only when the child – a little boy – turned his head to look at him, did he move. Reaching out, he tried to coax the child out of his spot, "Hey. You're safe now. You don't need to be afraid, I'm here to help."

The boy, he could be no more than two years old, blinked at him, brown eyes wide and wet from crying. Jim bit his bottom lip, hoping that his smile and open expression would get the boy to trust him. A minute passed and Jim's arm began to sag before the boy finally moved, crawling towards him, covered in mud and leaves as he was.

"That's it," Jim muttered, keeping his stance as small and unthreatening as possible.

The child slipped out of the shrubs and settled on the moss, short legs splayed out in front of him. Unsure how to proceed, Jim spoke once again but decided to do so in Vulcan this time around, "_My name is Jim Kirk. I am a member of Starfleet, see?" _he gestured at the Starfleet symbol on his shirt, "_We are here to help you_."

Apparently, his decision to use the boy's mother tongue had been a good one. The toddler's eyes widened and Jim was confronted with a pair of stubby arms reaching out for him.

Jim pulled the boy into his arms, smiling gently as he inspected the boy's overall appearance. He was very small and the tousled hair atop the child's head was muddied to a point that made it impossible for Jim to discern the colour. The tips of his pointy ears were flushed green but the face beneath the streaks of dirt was pale. He wore a pair of pants and a tunic, both of a simple grey colour. Jim froze when the small boy threw his arms around him, pressing tiny, cold hands against the back of his neck.

A shiver travelled down Jim's spine. For a moment he felt like something distinctly foreign had crawled into his mind and settled down in the cosiest corner it could find.

Shaking his head, Jim stood, cradling the small boy against his chest as he stomped back towards the edge of the forest.

"_So, little one, do you have a name_?" Jim asked as he glanced down at his comm. unit for directions.

There was no answer, but the boy gave a distressed whine nonetheless. The sound surprised him, even though he knew that Vulcan children were a lot more prone to open displays of emotion than their grown counterparts.

"_Ssh_," Jim cooed, "_It is going to be alright. We will figure this out, little one_."

The little Vulcan gave no indication that he had heard him, simply tightening his hold on him when Jim left the silence of the forest and stepped towards the destroyed city. Climbing back over the debris was made a lot more difficult by the toddler clinging to him, but he managed without major incidents and hurried back towards the camp.

Ten of the fifteen shuttles they had arrived with were nowhere to be seen, which meant that the transportation of the remaining Vulcans had begun already. Jim hoped the five that had been missing had been found alive. And that the little boy he was holding would be able to be reunited with his parents.

"Hey!" Jim called out, hoping to gather someone's attention.

Indeed his shouting caused a few doctors to look up from their patients, one of them actually pulling away to dash towards him. Jim stopped moving, hitching his small passenger higher. The doctor, a young woman named Linda Caffrey, did not even bother to reach out for the little boy, running her tricorder over the child's body quickly, "He's healthy apart from a slight fever and a very mild case of dehydration."

"That's still bad, right?" Jim asked, "He's so tiny."

Doctor Caffrey raised both brows, lids drooping a little as she drawled, "Yes, _Doctor_ Kirk. Take him to the others; I'll be there in a moment. If you can, try to get him to drink, there's water-"

"I know," Jim quipped and skipped past her, settling down on an empty crate.

Ignoring the stares he was receiving, Jim reached for a water bottle and uncapped it to pour a small amount into a cup. Once he had filled said cup, he attempted to remove the small boy from his new hiding spot, "_Hey, little one, are you thirsty? I know water is not exactly the tastiest thing you could drink, but we do not have anything else at the moment_."

The boy nodded and Jim gently pressed the edge of the cup to the boy's bottom lip. Within two minutes the cup was empty, and the child curled back up against him. Doctor Caffrey arrived at their side mere seconds after and knelt down, holding out her arms for the boy, "I'll take him for now. You can go and see if someone is searching for him."

"Okay." But as soon as Jim attempted to pass the boy over, the child began to whimper, "Oh. Oh no, what... Caffrey, what do I do?"

The young doctor looked equally shocked, but she managed to revert back to professionalism a moment later, "Keep him with you. He's obviously attached himself to you, probably because you found him and speak his language. Not to mention that you won't judge him for acting... not Vulcan," Caffrey rolled her eyes for emphasis.

It seemed as if Jim was not the only one that was unnerved by the lack of emotional outbursts happening around the camp.

Jim pulled the Vulcan boy back into the safety of his arms, grunting when the child buried his face against Jim's sternum, "Okay, then... now what? I can't run around with a kid attached to my front all day."

Caffrey pointed towards shuttle number seven, "Get in there. They're gonna take off in a minute and I want this kid aboard the _Excelsior_ as quickly as possible. Children can be tricky when it comes to trauma and the tricorder doesn't tell me if there are any injuries that might need treatment since it would only record them if they were already infected and caused an imbalance of hormones and enzymes for the tricorder to read."

Jim nodded and did not even dare to talk back before he was running over towards the indicated shuttle. Of course, because he was a Kirk and Kirks were not allowed to have nice things it seemed, it was Commander Spock who oversaw the proceedings regarding the shuttle. Commander Spock's eyebrows shot up so fast, Jim thought they would fly off, "Mr. Kirk, may I inquire what you are doing?"

"I'm doing my job, Commander. Doctor Caffrey told me to get him aboard this shuttle and since he refuses to let go of me, I have no choice but to come with," Jim grumbled, stroking the boy's back to calm the trembling that had overtaken the tiny body as soon as Spock had opened his mouth, "Permission to board the shuttle now, Commander?"

For a moment, Jim could have sworn the Commander looked ready to snarl at him, but the expression was gone before Jim was able to make sure it was there in the first place, "Very well. You will need to keep the child on your lap. There are only two more seats and I am in need of one, too."

Jim inclined his head then moved past Spock to sit down in the seat closest to the door. Pulling the safety belt over himself and the boy sitting in his lap, he ignored the stares he was being subjected to.

The travel back to the _Excelsior_ was quiet and saying that Jim was relieved to exit the shuttle would have been an understatement. By the time they had arrived, the Vulcan boy, whom he had dubbed Little Spock for the time being, had fallen asleep and Jim had a feeling it was less because he was feeling safe but more due to exhaustion. Especially since Jim attempted to hand him to the female Vulcan sitting beside him two times and both times the boy had started to keen as if he was in immense pain.

Not wanting a repeat of the scene back on Medea II or the one in the shuttle, Jim evaded the other passengers and the few medical officers than had accompanied the shuttle, hurrying towards the turbolift to get Little Spock to sickbay. The boy's exhaustion was the only reason why the jostling did not wake him and Jim reached the sickbay within two minutes.

The beds were filled with those that had been injured too severely to release them into their assigned quarters or the converted mess hall, where those with superficial wounds were being treated. Jim toddled further into the sickbay then stop to twirl in place a few times, trying to figure out whom to ask for assistance. At the third twirl, he was met with Commander Spock's stern gaze and stopped his motion with a squeak, "Commander!"

"Yes, Mr. Kirk. I do not believe it was logical to evacuate the sickbay prematurely when you have a small, possibly traumatized, child with you," Spock moved closer and Jim, for the hundredth time in his life, wished that he had ended up a little taller than the five foot eight he had stopped growing at.

Mostly because Spock was Vulcan and each and every one of them was at least six feet tall it seemed. It was ridiculous.

"Doctor Caffrey ordered me to take him to sickbay as quickly as possible, Commander," Jim answered, jutting his chin up and out as a sign of defiance.

"Doctor Caffrey is not Vulcan. The child should be examined by someone who knows what they are doing, Mr. Kirk and neither Doctor Caffrey nor you have the medical knowledge regarding Vulcan anatomy to determine what is best for the child."

"Yeah, well, the kid's kind of stuck to me and I won't subject him to more prodding than necessary. He's frightened and all I want is to find out where his parents are, if they are still alive," Jim huffed, "So, if you would please stop your unnecessary commentary, Commander, I have to find a doctor to help me take care of Little Spock's bruising. Good day."

Jim turned around, hiding his grin at the blatant shock visible upon the Commander's face and marched towards the back of the sickbay, hoping to find Bones along the way. Also to avoid being verbally mauled by Commander Spock, should the Vulcan ever recover from Jim's revelation regarding the child's temporary name.

Hitching Little Spock higher, Jim scurried around the large sickbay hall, breathing a sigh of relief when he spied Bones coming out of one of the private rooms, wiping his hands dry on a towel, "Bones! Bones, I could use some help!"

The doctor turned to face him, eyebrows rising in response to the sight that greeted him, "Jimbo, what are you doing? Who is that?"

"I have no idea, I found him in the woods," Jim grumbled, "Do you have a room somewhere that I can use? He's sleeping now, but back on Medea II, when Doctor Caffrey tried to take him away, he got really scared. I don't want to frighten him further when he wakes up by subjecting him to more strangers."

"...Alright. So why don't you leave him with a Vulcan? Wouldn't that make more sense?"

"He's clinging to me like a leech, Bones. Don't you think I thought about giving him to someone? You should have seen him on the shuttle! I'm sure, if he wasn't Vulcan, he would have been screaming when I tried to hand him to the lady beside me. It was ridiculous."

Bones seemed unimpressed and grabbed Jim's shoulder, steering him towards one of the offices off to the side. Ushering Jim inside, Bones shut the door and gestured for Jim to sit down, "Sit. I gotta tell Roland that he has to take over for me for an hour and I'll get a water basin, the kid's filthy."

Little Spock was still sleeping, or maybe unconscious, Jim had no idea. Maybe Commander Spock had been right and he should have at least stayed down in the shuttle bay to get the kid checked out for possible injuries that Jim might have overlooked. Jim sat down at the large desk in the middle of the office, cradling Little Spock in his arms as he brushed a hand through the mud caked hair.

Bones returned with a basin filled with clear water and a large, folded towel, "Come on. We should get him cleaned up before I treat him, being covered in dried mud can't be comfortable. Not to mention that he's getting bacteria all over everything."

"You're so charming, Bones," Jim grinned and moved to sit on the ground when Bones set the basin down.

"Shut up, Jim."

Together they peeled the boy out of the dirtied clothe and began the lengthy process of cleaning the boy. Little Spock had woken at some point during the bath, but had not even reacted to the fact that he was being washed, eyes fixed on Jim's face with an air of eerie determination.

In the end, Jim had wrapped the boy into the large towel after Bones was done treating the various scrapes and bruises, and was now marvelling at the blonde hair covering the child's head, curling unruly in every direction as it dried. Even Little Spock's eyebrows were of fair colouration, too light and thin to give the impression of a constant frown like they tended to do on the Commander. There was a mole, just underneath the boy's chin and his pointy ears were flushed mint green from the warm bath he had been given. Two big, brown eyes blinked up at Jim, while Little Spock's small hands continued to knead the front of his shirt.

Bones, who had left to get rid of the dirties basin and procure some clothes to dress Little Spock in, stepped back into the room, holding an small stack of clothing and a sippy cup, "How's he doing?"

"I don't know. He still won't talk. He reacted to me speaking Vulcan down on the planet, but now it doesn't make much of a difference what language I speak anymore," Jim shrugged, sighing as he carded his fingers through the soft baby hair, "Did you have any luck figuring out who he is?"

"No. He shows up on none of the lists," Bones shrugged and set the garments down beside Jim, holding the sippy cup out to him, "Get him to drink something, yeah?"

Nodding, Jim reached for the cup and shifted the bundled-up child until he was lying comfortably within his lap, Little Spock's head cradled in the crook of Jim's arm. It took a few seconds for Jim to grasp Little Spock's attention, but the boy did not refuse the sippy cup when Jim held it against his tiny mouth.

It was like holding his nephew Peter for the first time all over again. The baby had been smaller than Little Spock, of course, but the way the Vulcan child rested against him was painfully similar. Little Spock gulped down the juice within the cup as if it would vanish any second, fingers curling and uncurling, creasing the front of Jim's uniform even more.

"The hobgoblin wants to see you once the little guy here's done drinking, by the way," Bones plopped down in his seat with a groan, "Says that while he appreciates your dedication, the short stuff here should be in the care of either a doctor or another Vulcan."

"I really hope he's not talking about himself when he says 'another Vulcan'," Jim muttered, smiling at Little Spock when he gave a soft hum, "Right, baby monkey? You like me a lot more than Commander Spock."

"Christ, Jim," Bones drawled, "Are you saying you want to take care of the little elf for the time being?"

"What? No, I just think Commander Spock shouldn't be the one to take over caring for him," Jim answered as he felt the back of his neck grow warm, "Not to mention that the Commander probably has a lot to do. And I'm sure once I go to talk to him, he'll tell me how un-Vulcan it is to call him Little Spock."

"..._Little Spock_...?" Bones' face turned an unhealthy ruddy colour, mouth twitching as if unsure whether to snarl or to smile, settling on a mixture of disgust and amusement, "Jim, don't let the hobgoblin hear that. Spock might be Vulcan, but I bet he's just as sensitive about these things as a human guy would be."

"What? Why- oh my God, Bones, I meant the kid!" Jim groaned, laughing as he covered his face with one hand, "You're the worst!"

Bones snorted, "Why would you call the kid 'Little Spock' of all things?"

"They have the same eye colour and I don't want to think about a name for him, if he's not going to keep it in the first place," Jim pulled the empty cup away from Little Spock's mouth and set it down before he began to rub the boy's towel-covered stomach, "Hey, little guy. How about we get you dressed and then we'll go see what Commander Spock wants, huh?"

The little boy nodded and Jim was not sure if he was merely responding to the questioning tone in Jim's voice, or if he actually understood what he was asking of him. Deciding not to linger on it, he efficiently began to dress the child, noting the slight crease between his eyebrows when Jim tugged the pull-up over the boy's hips before doing the same with the incredibly tiny pair of trousers, "Where'd you get all this, Bones?"

"Commander Ross had to take his children with him because his wife is currently stationed on the _Phoenix_ and on the way to help out on at the Klingon border," Bones explained, "I asked him if he had anything I could borrow and he practically shoved these at me. I'm telling you, kid, I'll never have children. They make you go insane."

Jim laughed, "But they're cute. I bet you'd be an awesome Dad, Bones."

"I already have one idiotic child to take care of," Bones drawled, "Don't need to add a baby to it."

Grinning, Jim buttoned the cardigan over the Spiderman themed shirt he had wrestled Little Spock into and pulled the boy back into his arms as he got to his feet, "Alright. I'll go find the Commander and see what he wants. Have fun, Bones! Try not to overwork yourself. You know how cranky you get when you don't get enough sleep."

"Shut up, Jim and get out."

Jim lifted Little Spock's hand by taking the boy's thin wrist into a gentle hold, waving it at Bones, "Say 'bye-bye' to Uncle Bones, short stuff."

Little Spock blinked at Bones, then tucked his head underneath Jim's chin and began to hum quietly. Jim shrugged at Bones and smiled before stepping out of the office to make his way out of sickbay. On the way to the door, he kept stopping to ask random individuals, whether they were Vulcan or Starfleet personnel did not matter to him, if they had ever seen the little boy or at least had an idea whom he could belong to.

No one had an idea who the child could be.

Confused, Jim finally stepped out of the busy sickbay to march towards the turbolift. Little Spock had looped his short arms around his neck, holding onto his shirt with one hand, while the other rested just beneath his hairline. Jim requested Spock's location from the computer before boarding the turbolift, making his way down to Deck seven, where the laboratories were located.

Jim stepped out of the turbolift when the doors swished open and walked towards Lab 4, not even bothering to announce his presence as he shuffled towards the back of the large laboratory. Commander Spock was hunched over a microscope, elegant hands manipulating the controls at the sides.

Jim cleared his throat, "Commander? You wanted to speak to me?"

Spock straightened and directed his gaze at him, his left eyebrow performing its usual upward movement, "Indeed. I see you have decided to take the child with you again."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to leave him when he won't let go in the first place. I'm pretty sure taking a child from the person they trust is kind of counterproductive," Jim answered, rubbing his palm over Little Spock's back, "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"I have done research regarding the child's identity and have found that his mother joined the colony two years prior. She lived outside the city borders and was said to keep to herself, almost never seeking contact except to ask for medical advice and to buy nutrition for herself and her child. I was unable to find documents in regards to her or the child's name, since everything appears to have been destroyed."

"What about her? Is she still alive?"

Spock shook his head, "Her body was found among the five residents that had still been missing."

"Are... all five of them dead?"

"Yes," Spock shut his eyes for a second too long to pass for a mere blink, "The child will need to be given to someone to take care of him until we are able to take him to Vulcan alongside the other survivors."

Jim licked his upper lip, "Okay. Anything else?"

Spock's posture stiffened further, "Upon informing Captain Pike about the child's situation, he decided to make you responsible for his care. I have tried to protest, but he refused to listen."

Jim was quiet for a few, long moments then opened his mouth to speak, "Are you kidding me?"

"Vulcans do not kid, Ensign."

"I mean...," Jim sighed, "Is Pike serious? I can't take care of a child! I mean, sure I know how to feed a baby and how to change a diaper if needed, but the kid's not a baby, he's two or something and he's traumatized and-"

"Mr. Kirk, I would appreciate if you would lower the volume and the velocity in which you speak," Spock interrupted, "Captain Pike's decision was supported by both Doctor Wong and Doctor McCoy, which rendered my concerns and protests pointless. You are, for the duration of the time it will take to return to Earth, the child's guardian."

Jim shifted, reaching behind himself to drag one of the metal seats closer so he could plop down in it, "But... I can't...," he glanced down at the child curled up against his chest, two large eyes meeting his own.

"That is what I have tried to explain to Captain Pike, but as said before, he would not listen. He said that you would 'at be useful then."

Jim scoffed, "I was a good Ensign the whole time! I was very useful!"

Spock's eyes rolled towards the ceiling for a brief moment, "He also stated that it might keep you from... and I shall quote him here 'fucking with the turbolift controls again'."

Jim blinked then snorted, dissolving into soft laughter, "I can't believe you just said 'fucking'. And I didn't even touch the turbolift controls! I was being very nice," he calmed and sighed, "Alright, so... I'm Little Spock's guardian in the meantime."

"Indeed. And I would appreciate if you would stop referring to him as such," Spock responded, "I also request you to update me regarding the child's health and mental stability whenever I ask you to."

Jim huffed, "Yes, Commander. Anything else? I think Little Spock needs a nap and something to munch on afterwards"

Spock inclined his head, "You may leave, Ensign."

Jim got up and, with a quick nod towards the Commander, left the laboratory. Who was that repressed space elf, daring to insinuate that he was incapable of knowing how to treat a child? Sure, Jim was not certain about his ability to do so himself, but the Commander should have at least acknowledged that the little boy was obviously attached to Jim's person.

Grumbling to himself, Jim made his way towards the turbolift again, stepping inside and punching the button that would transport him to Deck 3. It had been a long day, both for him and for the little boy, and so, he carried the child towards his and Bones' quarters.

Little Spock continued to be quiet, even when Jim moved into his quarters and attempted to place the small boy onto his bed. The child continued to cling to him, fingertips pressing into the skin on the back of his neck, "Come on, baby boy, you need to get some sleep. I won't go anyway, okay? I promise."

Little Spock whined but let go, allowing Jim to settle the boy onto the bed. Smiling down at the child, Jim brushed his fingers through the fine, curly hair, "See? Wasn't so bad, right?"

The small boy reached out with both hands, placing them against his cheeks. Once again, Jim felt an odd fluttering in the back of his head, similar to the one he had sensed when the boy first touched him back on the planet. The impression of a question flooded through Jim's mind, alongside a sudden influx of images depicting a Vulcan woman with kind eyes and a scarf covering her hair, mouth curved into a constant, barely there smile. Curls of blonde hair peeked out from underneath her scarf and the meaning behind the pictures became clear, causing Jim to pull back, gasping.

Tears were gathering fast within the boy's eyes and Jim quickly leaned closer again, "Hey, no tears, sweetie. You're okay. Was that your Mom? _T'du ko-mekh vesh'ta_?"

Little Spock nodded and stretched his chubby hands out towards Jim's face once more. Jim licked his bottom lip, guiding the boy's hands against his cheeks. The questioning feeling was pressed through the contact for a second time and Jim suddenly understood what the boy was asking. A hard lump formed within his throat and Jim had to clear it a few times to speak, "_T'du ko-mekh_...," he broke off, shutting his eyes as he cupped the child's face between his own hands, unable to continue.

For some reason, the boy understood his silence and burst into tears. There was nothing controlled about this, nothing repressed, nothing _Vulcan_. Jim pulled the boy into his arms, wondering who that woman had been that allowed her son to be so unafraid of his own feelings and needs and yet lived among those that repressed their emotions.

"_Tushah nash-veh k'du_," Jim whispered, uncaring of the wetness seeping into his uniform.

It took almost an hour of constant uttering and rocking before Little Spock had exhausted himself enough to stop crying and another hour before he had fallen asleep to Jim's quiet story telling. By the time Jim had tucked the child in, he was exhausted.

Still, he was left to wonder. The boy's emotional reaction had thrown Jim off guard. It was downright confusing, as Jim had learned from his mother and at the Academy that emotional and mental training in Vulcans started very, very early. In the first months of a Vulcan child's life, their mind would be shielded by their parent. Once the age of two to three years was reached and the child was able to understand simple sentences, they would be trained to suppress their emotions in order to reign in their telepathy. Bones' scan had concluded that Little Spock was about thirty-two months old, which would mean his training should have begun already.

So, why was the boy so... open?

Had he been raised without the restriction of emotional control? If so, then why did the mother decide to move to Medea II? Would it not have made more sense to move to the colonies that rejected the Surakian teachings?

Jim was so caged within his own thoughts that when the buzzing sound of someone requesting entrance rang out, he was ready to just ignore it. The option was taken from him, however, when the door lock was overridden and Jim was faced with a familiar pointy-eared frowny-face. "Commander, I didn't expect to see you again so quickly."

Spock nodded, "Indeed. I wished to inquire about the child's well being, seeing as you have not answered the message Doctor Wong has sent to your communicator 13.6 minutes ago."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that, I was kind of busy calming him down," Jim gestured at the curled up ball underneath the blanket before reaching for his communicator.

_You are relieved from duty as of today. Please bring your little Vulcan friend to sickbay tomorrow for a brief check-up._

"I do not understand," Spock said stiffly, causing Jim to look up again, "Explain."

"He asked me about his mother and I had to tell him she's dead, Commander," Jim grumbled, "It's perfectly normal that he'd freak out."

"Vulcans do not 'freak out'."

"_He_ does. And my Mom always says that repressing sadness only turns it into anger. There's nothing wrong with him just because he cried," Jim crossed his arms in front of his chest, fingers drumming against his elbows, "Anyway, he's okay now. Somewhat."

"I did not mean to imply... it is perfectly normal for a child his age to lose control of their emotions when faced with such loss. You said he asked you about his mother. Did he speak? Were you able to ask for his name?" Spock moved and seated himself in the chair close by the comm. unit without waiting for Jim to offer him a seat.

Whoever spread the rumour about Vulcan politeness was definitely misinformed.

"Uh... not... not exactly," Jim cleared his throat, "He kind of... I'm not sure what you call it, but I think he used his touch telepathy to send me questions. I saw pictures, too. Pictures of his mother."

Commander Spock's eyes widened marginally, "He initiated a meld with you?"

"... I guess? If that's what you call it?"

Spock stood and stepped closer, "Has he caused you distress?"

Jim blinked, taken aback by the approach, "Uh, no. Don't worry, it didn't hurt or anything. There... there was no real emotional transfer."

"Vulcans do not worry," the Commander replied, but the answer sounded as if it was an automatic one, without real thought behind it, "I believe it would be prudent if I offered you my help regarding the child's care. While he has not injured you this time, an unsupervised meld with a psi-null mind could cause severe damaging in both the child's and your own mental facilities."

Jim stared up at the Vulcan, feeling small and a little silly since he was still seated on the edge of the bed Little Spock was sleeping in, "Uh. Okay? Sounds... that sounds... logical?"

The Commander nodded and moved away to sit down again, "Indeed."

A short silence, only broken by Little Spock's soft sniffles settled over them. Finally, the Commander spoke up once more, "I am puzzled by the child's quick attachment to your person, considering what has happened to him down on Medea II. I would have expected him to be suspicious towards those who are not of Vulcan descend. I am also ashamed to admit that I may have... been prejudiced regarding your character due to your... creative solution to the Kobayashi Maru simulation. You seem quite capable of taking care of the child, despite his Vulcan heritage."

Jim smirked, "Was that you apologising for being a jerk back at the Academy, Commander?"

Spock's eyebrow wandered upwards, like it seemed to do everytime Jim made a remark the Vulcan deemed 'illogical', "No, Mr. Kirk. I am saying that I might have misjudged you. That is all."

"Definitely an apology, then," Jim laughed, waving a hand through the air, "It's fine. I get it, it's not like you're the first one I ever got off on the wrong foot with."

"... I do not understand that particular vernacular."

Jim grinned, "It basically means we started getting to know each other in the wrong situation and by reacting in the wrong way to one another."

Commander Spock nodded, "I see."

"So, uhm, how about we just... start over," Jim smiled, "I'm James T. Kirk, I love ice cream and I have absolutely no brain to mouth filter. Nice to meet you."

"Illogical," Spock muttered, but he seemed inclined to play along anyway, "I am Sch'n T'gai Spock. I have no preference towards any kind of meal and I believe I am quite capable of keeping myself from blurting out unnecessary comments regarding other people."

Jim covered his mouth with both hands, hoping to keep the laughter bubbling from in between his lips at a minimum. When he had calmed down somewhat, he wiped at his watery eyes and met the Commander's blank stare with a broad grin, "You have no idea how hilarious you can be, Commander."

"Vulcans generally attempt not to act in any kind of 'hilarious' way."

Jim snorted, "Sure you don't. Anyway, uhm... did Pike say how long I'd be in charge of the little elf back there?"

"It is likely that it might take up to three weeks for the Council to find an adequate placement for the child, since there are many more that have been orphaned by the events on Medea II."

"What, no exact calculation as to how many days it's going to take? I'm disappointed, Commander," Jim quipped, running a hand through his hair in a display of nervousness.

Three weeks was a long time. Especially for someone, who had never had to take care of a small child for longer than a day before.

The Commander seemed to pick up on his apprehension and spoke up again, "However, should you find yourself overwhelmed by the responsibility, I am certain one of the Vulcan specialists aboard would be willing to take the child in for the time being."

Jim shook his head, "It's fine. I just... I'm just worried. He seems a lot less repressed than the other children. There were children a little younger than him that had more control. Sure they cried, but... you should have heard him, Commander. He was practically wailing."

The Commander's brows furrowed just a tiny bit, "I see. That is indeed strange. However, some Vulcans have decided to discard the teachings of Surak, as you may know."

"I know, but... wouldn't it have made more sense if his mother had moved to the colonies that actually refuse to follow Surak?" Jim tapped his index finger against his chin in thought, "Also, Little Spock only came out of his hiding place, when I told him I was a member of Starfleet. As far as I know, Starfleet had nothing to do with the construction of the colony. Right?"

"His mother might have taught him about Starfleet," Spock proposed, "As for the reason why she decided to live upon Medea II... I do not know. To me, it makes no logical sense. It could have been a mere longing for peace and quiet."

Jim nodded, "Yeah... that might be it. Maybe I'm just interpreting too much in this," he rubbed at his eyelids, "Uhm, Commander, I'm pretty tired. If it's not too much trouble, I'm going to go to sleep now, yeah?"

"Of course," Spock stood and tugged his uniform shirt back into place, "My apologies for keeping you awake. I will see you in the morning, Mr. Kirk. Sleep well."

"Uh-huh, nighty," Jim yawned, waiting until the Commander had left the quarters, before he began to peel himself out of his uniform, dropping the garments onto the floor as he wandered towards the shower.

He took a quick shower, dragged on a pair of Bones' sweatpants and a fresh shirt and crawled into his own bed, seeing as he had no other place to sleep. Jim was careful not to jostle the child, hoping that he himself would not sprawl out during his sleep and wake the boy.

The boy turned and curled into him, tucking his face against Jim's shoulder before stilling again. Sighing, Jim wrapped his arms around the child and nodded off.

Three hours later, Jim was shaken awake by a hungry little Vulcan, who was still unwilling to speak and not any less tactile. As soon as Jim had sat up, the boy latched onto him and was unwilling to let go, even when Jim requested Little Spock to at least let him get dressed.

In the end, Jim had to replicate food for them both with one hand, seeing as the other arm was used to secure Little Spock to his chest. Jim decided on two plates of noodles covered in a delicious smelling vegetable sauce.

"Okay, sweetie, I need you to go sit down on the bed. I can't carry you and both of the plates, okay?" Jim leaned down and set the child onto the ground, smiling. "Go on."

Little Spock toddled towards the bed and climbed onto it, further proofing Jim's theory that the child understood both Standard and Vulcan on equal levels. Picking up the two plates and the provided cutlery to carry it over to the bed and sit down beside the boy. Before handing the plate over to the child, he quickly sliced the noodles into little pieces and offered the boy a spoon, "It's easier to eat like that."

Little Spock accepted the spoon and began to eat once Jim had placed the plate onto his lap. Jim kept an eye on the child while he ate his own dinner, reaching out whenever the boy's plate threatened to tumble off his tiny lap.

While Little Spock's motions were clumsy, he did not hold the spoon like a small child would. Instead of clutching it in his balled up fist, he attempted to imitate the way an older person would he taught to hold a spoon. Due to this, the small boy was eating a lot slower than Jim, noodles and sauce dripping from his utensil before it even came close to reaching his mouth.

"Are you feeling better?" Jim asked once they had finished their meal and the dishes had been taken care of.

The boy gave a short nod, reaching out for him. Jim wiped Little Spock's hands and face clean, then picked him up to sit down in the chair in front of the comm. unit, the small boy coming to sit in his lap, "Are you sure? Do you want to talk to me about something, maybe?"

A shake of the head was his answer.

Jim sighed. He was not a psychologist, how was he supposed to do this? "Want to tell me why you like me so much, then?"

Little Spock touched his cheek again and Jim was met with another picture of the child's mother, however this time she was not wearing a scarf. Her blonde hair was cropped short, short ringlets covering her forehead and the edges of her eyebrows. Jim flushed a bright red, "...Because I'm blond like your Mom?"

The boy nodded again, a tiny smile curving his mouth. Jim groaned, but returned the smile nonetheless. If Bones found out about this, he was never going to stop teasing him. Never. Not in this lifetime.

"Okay, I can live with that, I think," Jim hummed, thumbing at a spot of sauce he had missed, "How did you get so dirty, hm? It's all over your face, sweetie."

Little Spock leaned into the touch, tiny fingers brushing over Jim's nose and eyebrows. Jim chuckled at the concentrated expression on the boy's face, causing Little Spock to blink at him, confusion clear in his eyes.

"Go on," Jim said and smiled when the boy promptly continued to examine his features.

Jim wondered if Little Spock's current calm would change as the hours progressed. After all, the boy had lost his mother, who must have been his entire world considering how young he was. The sheer amount of trust the boy was willing to bestow upon him was staggering. There was nothing Jim had done to deserve it, and yet the child was not afraid to open up to him. Lifting one hand, Jim began to card his fingers through the little boy's hair, ignoring the impressions of foreign memories seeping into his brain.

A gasp escaped the child when Jim's communicator gave a loud beep, indicating an incoming call. Jim accepted the call with a sigh, "Kirk here."

"_Mr. Kirk, here is Doctor Wong. If at all possible, I'd appreciate if you brought your little Vulcan friend down to sickbay for a quick scan. Commander Spock told me that you noticed that he is reacting differently to the occurrences on Medea II than the other children. I want to make sure that nothing has been overlooked._"

Jim blinked then groaned internally. He wanted to sleep, dammit. "Uh, sure, Doctor Wong. Just let me get dressed again, I kind of put on my pyjamas 'cause I thought he'd sleep 'till morning."

"_Of course. Private room number five is where I'll be waiting for you. Doctor Wong out._"

Jim set the communicator down and stood, carrying Little Spock over to the bed again, "Okay, short stuff. You heard the Doctor. I'll go get dressed and then we'll head down to sickbay."

Jim was pretty sure nothing was wrong with Little Spock, mostly because he trusted Bones' diagnosis. On the other hand, he had heard about people getting up after an accident and collapsing hours later due to some form of trauma that took a while to grow into lethal proportions. Huffing, Jim threw on his uniform again and lifted Little Spock off the bed, settling him on his hip as he marched out through the door, locking it behind himself.

Sickbay was quiet when Jim stepped inside; the bed's filled with either sleeping or meditating Vulcans. A few doctors were making their rounds, nodding at him in greeting when he passed them by.

Private room 5 was just as quiet, but Doctor Wong greeted him with a smile dissolving some of the tension that had built in Jim's shoulders, "Please, sit him down on the bed. It won't take long."

Jim nodded and moved towards the bed, settling the small child onto it before sitting down at the edge of the bed. Little Spock gave a soft whine, latching onto his hand with both of his own.

"It's okay," Jim cooed, "You'll be fine. Doctor Wong just wants to have a look at your head, okay? We just want to make sure you're okay, sweetie."

Doctor Wong moved the brain scanner over the boy's head, "You're quite good with children, Mr. Kirk. Anything you want to tell me?"

"My older brother has a kid, his name's Peter. He's four now and I was there when he was born," Jim explained, rubbing Little Spock's chest to soothe him, "There's another one on the way right now, another boy, I think. Sam said he'll name him after me if I finish Starfleet without any screw-ups."

Doctor Wong chuckled, "I see."

The brain scanner gave a shrill squeak, indicating that it was finished. Jim did not protest when Little Spock sat up and crawled into his lap.

Doctor Wong hummed as she analysed the scanner's result and looked up with a small smile, "He's perfectly healthy. It seems that your little friend here is just a little more emotional than other Vulcan children. I'm sorry for worrying you and," she leaned forward a tiny bit, voice growing softer, "don't be too hard on the Commander for this. I know he says Vulcans do not worry, but it was kind of obvious that he _was_ worried about the little guy."

Jim grinned, "Yeah, I kind of figured. The fact that he keeps insisting on Vulcans not being able to have emotions and then contradicting himself by being a jerk to me just because I sabotaged his stupid test... well, it was kind of obvious he was doing the Vulcan equivalent of a sulk."

Doctor Wong laughed, shaking her head, "I hope Commander Spock knew what he was getting into when he offered to help you with the little guy."

"I doubt it," Jim winked and gathered Little Spock against his chest, "Is there anything else you wanted to check?"

"Since I know that Doctor McCoy was the one you asked for help when you brought the boy here, I don't think further examinations are necessary. Unless you noticed something else that might deserve our concern?"

"Well... he won't talk. At all."

Doctor Wong nodded, "That's to be expected. He, like the other children, suffered from a severe trauma. Some of them began to act erratically once they were brought here, lashing out or even attempting to hit the doctors that were caring for them. A few have resorted to wander around the room aimlessly and others have stopped speaking like your little friend. It's nothing unusual and I hope that once we reach Earth we will be able to help the survivors heal."

"No. I mean, apart from the crying last night," Jim broke off when Little Spock decided that this was the moment to stick his cold hand down the collar of his uniform, "... he seems like any other two year old."

Doctor Wong covered her mouth, no doubt to hide a grin, "I see. Good. A few things though. You need to keep him warm at all times. Vulcan children tend to cool out very quickly and their immune systems develop slower than ours, since their bodies are focused on the telepathic development of their brain. It might be prudent to make him wear a wool hat or something similar. I can give him an immunity booster shot, if you like."

Jim hummed, shaking his head, "Should've known not everything about these Vulcans is efficient. Thanks, Doctor Wong, I'll try to find something to cover Little Spock's ears with; I doubt he would appreciate being jabbed with a hypospray right now. Uhm... anything else?"

"I believe for everything else you might want to consult Commander Spock. While I am trained to treat a Vulcan, I'm not well versed in the psychological aspect of their species. And since our Vulcan specialist is currently _on_ Vulcan...," Doctor Wong broke off, shrugged and gestured towards the door, "Captain Pike wants you to come to the bridge. Bring the little guy with you."

"Oh, yes," Jim grinned, attempting to hide his nerves, "Did he tell you why he wants to see me?"

"He wants to talk about your new task," Doctor Wong gestured towards Little Spock, "I think it's a little unorthodox, seeing as you're almost a child yourself. But... I think it would be detrimental to the boy's health if he was taken away from you. And since we're talking about that; have you found out why he's so attached to you?"

Jim flushed, "Uh... well, it's because I kind of look like his Mom to him."

Doctor Wong nodded, a smile blooming on her face, "I see. Well, I'll stop keeping you from going to Pike, then. Take care of the boy."

Jim nodded, "I will," and with that, Jim carried Little Spock outside again.

The boy seemed a little less scared, taking the time to glance around their surroundings before hiding his face against Jim's shoulder again when they entered the turbolift. Humming, Jim bounced the toddler a little, "Okay, little man. We're going to see the Captain. Are you excited?"

Little Spock gave no answer as he began to play with the front of Jim's shirt.

Jim sighed, "Sweetie... can you tell me your name? What did you Mom call you?"

The boy blinked and looked up at him, tilting his head in a fashion that reminded Jim of the Commander. Maybe Vulcans had been doing this head-tilting for so many years, that it had been genetically imbedded within their DNA.

The boy reached up and touched Jim's cheek once again. The word _el-keshtanik_ echoed through his mind, spoken by a female voice. Confused, Jim met the boy's solemn gaze. "She called you freeborn?"

Did the boy not remember his own name? Or had his mother used _el-keshtanik_ more often than the child's actual name, causing him to become confused regarding their meanings? Why would she call him 'freeborn' of all things?

Jim furrowed his brows when the boy nodded, "Do you know why?"

Little Spock shook his head and tucked his face underneath Jim's chin, nose pressing into the skin above his pulse point. Of course he would not know. He might have been Vulcan, but he was two years old. Expecting him to remember everything that had happened in his short life was just ridiculous.

"Do you know your Mom's name, maybe?" Jim tried, but received no answer, neither through another shallow meld nor in the physical form of a headshake.

Breathing out a soft sigh, Jim pressed the button to the bridge and stepped out of the lift a second later. Captain Pike rose from his seat a mere moment after he had arrived and gestured towards the door to the side, "Number One, you have the Con. Mr. Kirk, Commander Spock, with me."

The Commander, who had been seated at the science station, stood and moved to walk beside Jim as they followed the Captain. Pike lead them down a hallway and into an unused conference room, where he seated himself at the head of the rounded table, "Take a seat you two."

Cupping the back of Little Spock's head, Jim lowered himself into the chair to Pike's left, glancing at the Commander when he sat down beside Jim instead of Pike. The strange surroundings seemed to confuse Little Spock and he had taken to curling himself up as much as he could to hide once more. Jim sighed, "So... uh, did something happen, Captain? Am I in trouble?"

Pike smirked, "Why is it that you always think you're in trouble, Kirk? Is there something I should know about?"

"No!" Jim exclaimed, blushing when he realised that his voice had been a little too loud, "I mean, no. There's nothing. I swear."

Pike nodded, "Good. The reason why you're both here is that we need to discuss the kid's situation. Seeing as he's attached to you, Kirk, Doctor Wong and I thought it'd be better to let you play Mommy for a while until we figure out whether he has any relatives we could contact and ask to take him in."

"Yeah, I... I know that," Jim answered, confused.

"Yeah. I talked to the Academy board and they were willing to exempt you from some of your classes to give you enough time to care for the kid. Commander Spock is willing to take a leave to ensure that the kid's cared for while you attend your remaining classes. Due to that, the board has decided that it might be prudent if you went to live with the Commander, seeing as he has an apartment off campus that'd provide some much needed peace for the little guy and he wouldn't have to keep switching between your quarters and the Commander's apartment."

For a long moment, Jim did nothing but stare at Pike.

Then Jim blurted out a loud, "What?" the word overlapping with the Commander's exclamation of "Excuse me?"

Pike did not answer. Instead he threw his head back and started to laugh.

* * *

Ayeeeee... Fuck I'm so bad at writing right now. Sorry that the chapter seems so disjointed. *sighs*


	4. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long, I was stressed out from finals and studying and ugh. Uni sucks.

Anyway, Thank you for all your wonderful reviews!

Also, I have no idea what the hell this chapter is supposed to be. Sorry for any mistakes, weird name scrambling (I bet I accidentally wrote 'Stiles' at one point. I just know it) and whatever else you can find!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Encoded**

Chapter 3:

The apartment was large on a level that bordered on extravagant. The living room included a broad, dark grey couch, a TV that seemed to be wider than Jim was long and the southern wall was made entirely of glass, covered halfway by plain, cream coloured curtains. On the right side, the living room overflowed into the generous kitchen, the two rooms divided by the kitchen island on which various bowls filled with exotic fruits had been placed.

The bottom floor of the apartment also located a spacious bathroom, a toilet and a room Commander Spock had called his office. A circular staircase in the anteroom led to the upper part of the apartment, which contained another small bathroom, another toilet and two bedrooms.

All in all, the apartment was much too big for a single person.

Jim glanced towards Commander Spock when the Vulcan moved past him to sit down on the couch, "I have taken your suitcases upstairs and put them into the last room on the left."

"Thanks," Jim muttered, brushing his fingers through Little Spock's hair.

The little boy had fallen asleep halfway to Spock's apartment, wrapped in one of Jim's jackets, head covered by a bright red knit hat, that had been promptly declared 'illogical' by the Commander. Jim had told him that his face was illogical which had prompted a heated discussion about Jim's need to be 'even more illogical than any other human'.

After the revelation that Jim was supposed to move in with his Professor, Jim had demanded an explanation. It turned out that, while the Academy board hat not initially been convinced that Jim was the best option to ensure the Vulcan child's health, Pike and _the entire med bay_ had done their best to change their mind. Hours of long winded explanations regarding behaviour and psychological health in traumatized children, the Academy board had given in and declared their arguments valid.

Jim had the suspicion that the real reason behind their willingness to leave Little Spock in his care was the fact that they had been scared that by taking a chance at damaging the child's psyche by taking him from Jim would cause a huge controversy with the Vulcan Council. Something nobody in Starfleet wanted to take a chance at.

The entire situation concerning the remaining Vulcans had been difficult to work with. Most children were able to be returned to their mothers and fathers once they had landed on Earth while those that had been left orphaned had been taken in by the doctors and psychologist that had been in charge of their care aboard the _Excelsior_. The Vulcan Council had not been thrilled by this, but after a throughout and logical conversation with Doctor Wong understood that those children could benefit from a less emotionally controlled environment to help them through their pain.

When Jim had attempted to argue that living with Commander Spock would be horrible and awkward seeing as they did not get along that well, Pike had laughed at him again and told him to get over himself.

Jim _knew _that this entire situation with Spock and the apartment was a set-up. It was the only explanation that made sense to him. The two days it took to get back to Earth had not changed his mind on the situation. He knew he needed the Commander's help since he was neither a trainer doctor nor in any way versed in Vulcan child psychology and the Commander was at least able to provide knowledge regarding his own species.

A soft sigh escaped his lips and he moved towards the couch to settle the sleeping child onto the cushions. Little Spock's stubby arms curled towards his chest a mere second later, both hands balled up beneath his chin as the boy attempted to trap his own body warmth within Jim's jacket.

Spock made his way into the kitchen and retrieved a small plate. He then began to peel a few of the greyish blue fruits lying in one of the fruit bowls, setting the fleshy pulp that was revealed onto the plate, "I have ordered a bed for the little one to be delivered. It should arrive within the day."

Jim nodded, "Okay. He can sleep on the couch for now, right?"

"Yes," Spock carried the plate over to the coffee table and set it down, "Eat."

"Is that how it's going to be?" Jim muttered but reached out to pick a fruit off the plate, "What are these?"

"_Pla-savas_. I have consulted with Doctor McCoy, seeing as your allergic reactions are well known within the Academy after-"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim waved his free hand through the air, "I know. I messed up the Annual Academy ball, no need to remind me. I was there."

"Indeed," Spock's eyebrow twitched, but he did not, "As I was saying, I consulted with Doctor McCoy and he was willing to send me a complete list of your allergies. After studying the list, I have concluded that nothing contained in _pla-savas_ poses a danger to your health."

"Oh. Well, thanks," taken aback by the Vulcan's thoughtfulness, Jim took a careful bite.

The pulp was of a smooth, soft consistency, similar to that of a ripe mango. It tasted a tad sour and left a strange, tart aftertaste. Jim decided he liked it, "It's good."

Spock inclined his head, "They are very nutritious and should provide enough energy until I am able to procure dinner for us."

"I could cook," Jim said, reaching for another fruit, "We'd have to go shopping, of course, because from the sound of that, you don't use that kitchen for anything else but to stow fruits."

"The art of cooking has always eluded me."

A chuckle tumbled from Jim's purple-stained mouth, "Yeah, Aurelan, my brother's wife? She's like that, too. Give her a broken computer and she'll fix it in ten minutes. Ask her to make noodles and she'll burn the entire kitchen down in seconds."

"I have never set the kitchen ablaze while attempting to cook pasta."

Jim narrowed his eyes, "Did you set it on fire while trying to cook something else, then?"

When no direct answer was issued and his questioning stare was met with a raised eyebrow, Jim's lips curled into a knowing grin. It seemed like Mr. Proper Vulcan Spock _did_ have a sense of humour hidden somewhere behind that more or less blank exterior. About to make another snarky comment, Jim opened his mouth but was interrupted by Little Spock's soft whine.

Turning his head, he found the small boy squirming beside him, fighting his way out of the zipped jacket as his eyes roamed around the living room. As quickly as he could without scaring the unnerved child, Jim reached out and hefted Little Spock into his arms, "Hey, sweetie. It's okay, we're at Commander Spock's apartment, you know? We're going to live here a little while."

Little Spock ceased his wiggling and blinked at him, sleep still glazing his half-lidded eyes. The boy gave another whine and let his cheek drop onto Jim's shoulder. Jim hummed and unzipped the jacket, tugging it off the boy's small frame before dropping it onto the armrest of the couch. The Commander did not even hesitate to carry the garment into the anteroom, most likely to hang it over one of the hooks sprouting from the wall.

When Spock returned, Jim addressed the question he had wanted to ask since he had been told to that he was to be the boy's temporary guardian, "So, uhm... how exactly are we going to do this?"

A slight crease appeared between Spock's eyebrows. "I do not understand."

"I mean...," Jim sighed, running his free hand through his hair, evading Little Spock's fingers when the boy attempted stick them into Jim's mouth, "We've been practically thrown together to raise a child. How are we doing this?"

"You seem quite capable of taking care of the child. He seems content, although I believe it would be prudent to at least attempt to implement emotional control training once he has recovered enough," Spock gestured at Little Spock, who had taken to chewing at his own knuckles as he inspected the comic rendition of Ironman on the front of Jim's sweater, "Should the Vulcan Council insist on him being placed into the care of a Vulcan family, he will be unable to adept otherwise."

Jim nodded, "Okay," he stood, carrying Little Spock towards the large window pane functioning as wall, "Look, sweetie. That's San Francisco."

Little Spock turned his head and followed Jim's gaze. He seemed captivated for a few seconds but began to swing his short legs, kicking his socked feet against Jim's abdomen and hip after another minute of staring through the glass.

For the next twenty minutes, Jim proceeded to show the boy around the apartment. Everytime the toddler gestured at something that interested him, Jim would explain it the best he could. When they ended up back on the couch, Jim tried to feed the boy small pieces of the _pla-savas_ but the child seemed more interested in playing with the wooden spoons Jim had given to him on their way through the kitchen.

"Say," Jim spoke up, "I've never seen a blond Vulcan before. Is it something rare or...?"

Spock nodded, "Vulcan is a desert planet. Much like Earth, the appearance of Vulcans has adjusted to withstand the sun for as long as possible. Blond hair is usually found in the colder regions closest to the poles where the sun is unable to reach the ground for more than a few hours due to the large mountains cutting through the landscape surrounding the few populated areas."

"Huh, I didn't know that," Jim muttered, brushing the boy's curls from his forehead, "So, Little Spock comes from the Vulcan equivalent of the North Pole? Guess Bones had a point when he called him 'tiny space elf'."

"... I understand that it is a reference to the helpers of the mythological persona of Santa Clause, who resides in an imaginary town located on Earth's North Pole?"

Jim grinned, "Yep."

"I assure you that Vulcans are in no means the workers of an obese man wearing red garments while riding a sleigh drawn by a subspecies of the Cervidae family."

"Just call them reindeers, Spock. We all know how smart you are, no need to remind us," Jim winked at the Vulcan, laughing when it caused the Commander's eyebrows to shoot up towards his hairline.

Little Spock chose that moment to start yawning. His tiny hands released the wooden spoons, allowing them to clatter to the ground while the boy reached up to rub at his eyes. Smiling at the boy's obvious need for more sleep, Jim gestured at the ceiling, "I'll go and put him to bed for now. You want to come with me so I don't get lost and accidentally raid your wardrobe?"

Spock tilted his head. "I do have confidence that you are capable to keep your hands off my garments, Mr. Kirk."

"So nice of you," Jim drawled, getting to his feet. "I'll be right back. Don't burn down the kitchen while I am gone."

Not waiting for an answer, Jim made his way out of the living room towards the stairs. Once he reached the top, he shuffled towards the last door on the left side and stepped into the large bedroom beyond. It contained a large bed, a wardrobe and a commode, all of them painted a neutral white. Jim settled the small boy onto the bed, pulling off the pants he was dressed in leaving him to pout at the colourful pull-up Jim had forced him to wear.

"Don't pull that face, you know why you need to wear it, kiddo," Jim kissed Little Spock's hair and gestured for him to lie down, "Come on, it's nap time for you."

Little Spock whined but did as he was told, curling up in the middle of the large bed as Jim began to stack the numerous pillows around the child, both to keep the boy warm and to prevent him from rolling off the bed in the middle of the night. Whether or not the second reason was even something to worry about, Jim did not know.

Once he had finished creating a nest for Little Spock, Jim covered him with the blanket and pressed another kiss to the boy's forehead, "Goodnight, sweetie."

A tiny hand touched his face and Jim felt the tiny speck of warmth in his mind flare up for a brief second before the boy's hand dropped away once more. The warmth lingered instead of vanishing, settling back within Jim's mind without diluting itself in the stream of his thoughts like it usually would. With a shake of his head, Jim waited until Little Spock's breathing had slowed to indicate that he was asleep then moved out of the room, pulling the door halfway shut to ensure that he would hear the boy if he woke.

Walking back downstairs, he found the Commander gone from the couch and back in the kitchen, peeling more of the _pla-savas_. Jim cleared his throat and shuffled towards Spock, "I see you didn't burn down the kitchen."

"Contrary to your apparent belief, I am indeed capable of containing myself," Spock responded.

Jim snickered, "I'm so telling Bones that you have a sense of humour, just so you know."

"You may do so. I will deny it until the day I perish."

It was like stepping into another world; the Professor seemed a lot more relaxed now that they were not surrounded by others. It confused Jim to no end. A few weeks ago, them being in the same classroom had ended in a verbal battle that left the remaining students sitting in awkward silence as they waited for the Professor to stop letting himself be riled up by the infamous Jim Kirk.

And now, the Vulcan acted like none of it had ever occurred. Like Jim had not manipulated the Kobayashi Maru and gotten away with it. Jim shook his head to himself, "You know, I would have thought you'd hold that grudge against me a little longer."

"Vulcans do not hold grudges. They are illogical," Spock pushed the plate filled with peeled fruits towards Jim once more.

Jim plucked one of them off the porcelain and nibbled on it, "Mhm. Could've fooled me."

Spock moved towards the sink and washed his hands, "You were clearly bored in my class. Giving you additional work was a logical thing to do."

"Right. But only after I decided your test needed some patching."

"As I have already explained the meaning behind the Kobayashi Maru, I will not do so again. You have cheated and misunderstood the message of the test. However," the Commander turned his head to look at him, "I understand your reasoning. Which is why I decided to implement your 'patch' into the program; a Captain should always attempt to save their crew. It is only logical to reward those that do not give up and do not only display tactical knowledge but personal strength with a chance to win."

Jim blinked. He really hoped that their sudden ability to not only keep from jumping at each other's throats but lead normal conversations, too, was not a one-time thing. After all, he really liked this version of Spock. "Thanks. I think?"

The Vulcan gave a short nod and gestured towards the _pla-savas_. "Please, continue to eat. While you have fed the child twice today, you have forgotten to procure food for yourself. Optimum health can only be established if your body receives enough nutrients to keep itself balanced."

Jim grumbled, "I'd say you sound like my Mom, but Mom never talks like that."

The Commander tilted his head and Jim rolled his eyes, stuffing another _pla-savas_ into his mouth to appease the Vulcan.

"So, do I call you Commander or Professor when I talk to you?" Jim asked, wiping fruit juice off his chin as he reached for another piece of pulp.

"Seeing as I am neither your superior nor your teacher at the moment, I believe calling me Spock will be an adequate solution to that particular problem," Spock answered.

"Okay. But you have to stop calling me 'Mr. Kirk', alright?"

"Of course, James."

Jim groaned, "Jim. Please, call me Jim. The only one who calls me James is Mom, and that only happens when I forgot to take out the trash in the morning."

"You live with your mother, still?"

"Only during the summer break," Jim shrugged, "Usually I live on campus, because Mom's in Iowa and I can't exactly take a shuttle back and forth every day. That'd be pretty expensive and not to mention unnecessarily complicated."

"Indeed."

Jim watched as Spock turned and left the kitchen area to sit down on the couch. Huffing, Jim picked the plate of fruits up before making his way over, too, plopping down at the other end of the sofa, the plate balanced on his lap. "So, you live here alone?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him, "Yes, Jim. Why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?"

"I'm trying to keep the conversation running," Jim answered. "I would have thought you'd have a girlfriend or boyfriend or something along the lines. I mean, you're... uh... not bad looking?"

_Smooth, James Kirk. Very smooth. _

"While I appreciate your rather strange compliment, my physical appearance does not automatically guarantee that I am in a relationship," Spock replied after a long bout of silence. "I also believe that this line of conversation is not a proper one, Jim."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Jim muttered, cheeks burning.

The next hour passed in relative silence, broken only when Spock turned on the TV for Jim and retreated into his office for a brief moment to retrieve his PADD. Jim had no idea why the Vulcan saw the need to work now, but he was still too embarrassed to ask. Jim flicked through the channels, stopping at some horribly cheesy romance movie about an Orion female trying to woo a human princess. Spock commented on the illogical and predictable reactions of the main characters and Jim fell asleep somewhere between agreeing with Spock and smiling when the Orion and the princess got together close to the end of the movie.

Jim woke to the sound of someone move past him, sitting up with a confused frown. He was still on the couch, but someone had covered him with a thick blanket and had the foresight to place a pillow underneath his head.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jim shuffled off the couch and upstairs. Barely awake he managed to take a shower, brush his teeth and get dressed. Halfway down the stairs, he realised that Little Spock had not been in Jim's room, neither in the large bed, nor the child's bed that had been tucked into the corner. Jim could not quite fathom how he had missed the Vulcan carry a bed upstairs. Shrugging, he skipped down the remaining stairs and followed the sound of Spock's baritone towards the Vulcan's office. Peering inside, he found Spock and Little Spock sitting on something that resembled a yoga mat covered in intricate patterns. Curious, he stayed in the doorway, watching as Spock placed one hand against the child's cheek.

The atmosphere was tranquil and heavy like a cotton blanket. Little Spock's eyes were shut halfway, lids flickering whenever the boy blinked. Jim was not sure what was happening at the moment. While he knew Vulcans were touch-telepaths, there was not a lot that was known about how a Vulcan childhood looked like. Maybe this was some sort of ritual between parent and child?

Little Spock's expression lit up and his mouth curled into a tiny smile as the boy's eyes fell shut. Jim watched as Little Spock's tiny hands reached up to latch onto Spock's sleeves, stubby fingers curling into the fabric of the Vulcan's knitted sweater.

Shaking his head, Jim moved away from the door and tiptoed back towards the living room. As quietly as he could, he began to prepare breakfast with the few things that were available. Somehow, he managed to scrape together a meal made out of toasted bread smeared with butter and jam, bowls filled with fruit salad and three glasses of orange juice. All in all, it was not that bad.

Jim had just finished setting the table, when Spock walked in, Little Spock toddling after him like a baby duck. The small boy gave a soft hum upon seeing Jim, holding out his arms in a clear indication that he wished to be picked up. Laughing, Jim hefted the child into his arms, kissing his nose, "Good morning, sweetie."

Little Spock pressed his palms to either side of Jim's face, eyes scrunching up as the boy gifted Jim with a wide smile. Chuckling, Jim sat down at the table, "You slept well, huh? What were you and Spock doing, hm? Was it fun?"

Little Spock nodded and Jim felt his chest becoming tight at the way the boy smiled at him, the sight telling him that the child would be alright. Just like Jim's mother had been alright after his father had died.

"I have built a few necessary shields around his psyche to ensure that he would not be distressed by accidental contact from strangers," Spock explained, seating himself on the opposite side of Jim.

Jim nodded, ripping off a piece of buttered toast to hold it up to the toddler's mouth, "We should go shopping. Little Spock needs clothes and we need to fill that black hole you call a fridge."

"What 'Little Spock' needs, is a proper name," Spock responded, "Have you attempted to-"

"I tried asking him. But all he knows is that his mother called him _el-keshtanik_. If he ever had a name, it's lost until we find a birth certificate or what's left of his family," shaking his head, Jim ate a spoonful of fruit salad, "Anyway... if you have an idea what to call him I'd ask you to share it with the class."

"We are not located inside a classroom at the current time."

Jim snickered, "Yeah, yeah. So, what about... uhm... I really have no idea. I never cared much about Vulcan names, they usually sound really funny. And I doubt the Vulcan Council would appreciate if I named him something like Jason."

The Commander took another bite of his toast, chewing as he studied Little Spock's clumsy attempts at taking away Jim's spoon. There was a moment of silence before Spock spoke up once more, "Elonat."

Jim blinked, "Elonat?"

Spock nodded. "Yes. The approximate meaning of the name is 'both different and free'. It seems fitting."

A soft smile curved Jim's lips. The name was not only fitting, it referenced back to the one the boy's mother had called him and the fact that the child himself was different from what was the Vulcan norm, without making it sound like something disgraceful or even unwelcome.

"It does," he glanced down at his little companion, "What do you think, Elonat? Do you like that name?"

The toddler blinked at him, then nodded and grabbed onto Jim's hand. Flickers of emotion and pictures weaved through the contact into Jim's brain, dissipating once Elonat removed his hand. Jim grinned, "He likes it."

It could have been Jim's vivid imagination, but for a moment, Spock's chest seemed to puff out a tad more than usual upon breathing in. Deciding it best not to comment on his observation, Jim moved to stand, "So, about that shopping trip I proposed."

"Ah, yes," Spock stood, "Does this 'shopping trip' require my presence?"

"Absolutely. I have no idea what you like to eat and we need to get Elonat something to wear that doesn't upset your delicate Vulcan senses."

"I believe you are mocking me," Spock moved past him into the anteroom, "In addition, you have forgotten to mention that you lack the ability and the permission to drive a car."

Jim rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well. Not everyone has the time and money to get a freaking driver's license. Or a car for that matter."

Spock's car was a black, sleek model, more built for speed than storage space. The fact that the Commander preferred fast cars added a whole new layer to the enigma that was S'chn T'gai Spock. To Jim's surprise, there was a child seat installed in the backseat of the vehicle, throwing off the dark grey seats with its bright red colouration. Jim grinned as he strapped Elonat into the seat, shutting the door with a kiss to the child's forehead before hopping into the front passenger seat, "Didn't take you for a sports car fan, Spock."

"The car is efficient and aesthetically pleasing to me. It would have been illogical to buy a different vehicle," Spock started the car and Jim whistled at the low hum indicating a strong engine, "You do not seem particularly unhappy with my choice of transportation either, Jim."

"Why would I be? This thing is awesome," he buckled his seat belt and turned to smile at Elonat, "Right, sweetie? We love Spock's car!"

Elonat gave a quick nod and began to play with the clasp of the seat belt. Directing his attention forward once again, Jim watched as Spock moved the car out of the parking spot and out onto the street.

Jim had not seen much of San Francisco in the years he had spent at the Academy. Going shopping had never been his thing, at least, if it did not include food. Groceries were no problem; there were enough stores close to the cadet quarters on Campus. But clothes? Not one of his strong points. Mostly because he had the fashion sense of a five-year-old and grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

"The Vulcan Council contacted me while you slept," Spock changed gears with a practised motion of his right hand, "They will send a Vulcan mind healer down to Earth to assess the health of the survivors that will not return to Vulcan in the next two weeks. This includes Elonat."

"Is that the actual reason why you built him shields?" Jim asked, playing with the radio until he found a station that he found passable to listen to, "To make him presentable to the healer?"

"No. A mind healer will neither question nor judge the lack of shielding in a child or an adult. That is why they are mind healers. As I have told you, I built these shields to protect him from an overload of telepathic and empathic input. It could prove detrimental to his health and causing him more distress is the last thing I desire."

"Oh," Jim cleared his throat, "Uh. Sorry. Yeah, that was... that was a stupid question. I shouldn't have assumed that."

Spock inclined his head. "It is of no matter."

The rest of the drive was done in awkward silence. Spock parked the car and unlocked the doors, allowing Jim to scramble out and escape the thick atmosphere within the vehicle. Moving towards the backdoor of the car, Jim opened it and unbuckled Elonat from his seat, cooing when the boy latched onto him once he was free. They made their way down the large shopping street, passing by various stores before entering one that looked promising.

Elonat seemed torn between hiding himself against Jim's front and gazing around the bright interior of the store. Jim led the way towards the children's department, suppressing a bout of laughter at the way Spock moved through the store. All serious and straight-backed, the Vulcan looked utterly misplaced in the midst of colourful children's clothing. He received a raised eyebrow for his troubles.

After Jim had gathered a decent amount of clothing, he retreated into one of the changing rooms with Elonat and helped the boy change. Spock had sat down on one of the comfortable chairs outside the row of changing cubicles and merely nodded everytime Jim presented a newly dressed Elonat to him.

"Oh, come on!" Jim groaned, "I'm sure you have _something_ to say! You always do!"

"I do not believe my opinion regarding the clothing you have picked for Elonat will be of any real interest to you, Jim."

Jim sighed, "Just tell me if you think it suits him, for Heaven's sake, Spock. It's not that difficult!"

The Vulcan was quiet for a long moment, eyes not once straying towards Elonat as he answered, "It suits him."

A tiny, gurgled snarl escaped Jim's mouth and he whirled back around to carry the boy back into the cubicle. Jim helped Elonat dress back into his own clothes, before chucking a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a thick pullover over the door of the cubicle, "Pay for that and ask them to take off the price tags, then bring the clothes back here so Elonat can put them on."

Jim heard Spock sigh and, upon peering out of the cubicle, found that the clothes he had thrown had landed on the Vulcan's head with frightening accuracy. Snickering, Jim watched as Spock dragged the clothes off his head, leaving his hair ruffled and his face carefully blank. The Vulcan stood and moved away, carrying the clothes with him.

Elonat gave a tiny giggle and, after kissing the boy's cheek in delight upon hearing the sound, Jim began to fold the other clothes the boy had chosen from the pile Jim had accumulated. By the time Spock returned with the paid clothing, Jim was able to push the stack of clothes into the Vulcan's hand.

"We're buying that," Jim declared, then hastily added a meek, "Please?" when Spock's gaze hardened into an expression of mild reprimand for a moment.

Spock nodded once and moved away again. Jim tugged the tiny boots back onto Elonat's feet and hefted the boy into his arms once more to follow the Vulcan towards the check-out counter. He came to stand beside him, grinning at the man behind the counter that had been eying Spock. The man tilted his head then did a double-take when he noticed Elonat in Jim's arms.

Suddenly, the man was a lot quicker at scanning the tags on Elonat's new clothing and two minutes later, they were wandering down the shopping street again. Five minutes was the amount of time Jim managed to keep his laughter from bursting out. After that, he had to stop, handing Elonat over to Spock before practically folding himself in half as he began to guffaw.

"I do not see what is so amusing, Jim," Spock said when Jim had calmed down enough to straighten up again.

"Did you see that guy's face when he saw Elonat?" Jim chortled, wiping at his eyes.

"I did not," Spock held Elonat out towards Jim once more, releasing the child when Jim had wrapped his arms around the boy, "I also do not see the correlation between a stranger's face and your laughter, Jim."

"That means you didn't notice him checking you out either, right?" Jim had a feeling that Spock was beginning to feel very annoyed underneath all that Vulcan pretence.

"I was aware that he seemed quite taken with my person. I still do not see the connection, Jim, and I would appreciate if you would explain it to me."

Yes, Spock was definitely starting to become annoyed, shifting the bags of clothing into his other hand. "I'm pretty sure he thought Elonat was our son."

Spock's shoulders slumped at the same time his eyebrows shot upwards towards his hairline. Jim grinned at the Vulcan, snickering when Spock was unable to utter a sound in response. His expression, Jim guessed, was pretty much the Vulcan equivalent of someone gaping in surprise. Waving one hand at Spock, Jim turned away to start walking again. Elonat cooed, imitating Jim's wave, giggling when Spock blinked and stumbled after them.

They wandered up and down the long shopping street for a few hours, until Elonat's stomach made itself known with loud, gurgling growls. Responding instantly to the boy's hunger, Spock guided them into a small restaurant where they settled in a booth by the window. Seating Elonat on his lap, Jim reached for the menu, skimming over the options for a moment, before addressing Spock, "Maybe you should order, I have never been here before and you seemed pretty intent on coming here, so I'm guessing you had lunch here once or twice."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, "Your idea is logical."

A young waitress moved towards their table barely a moment later and Jim presented her with a quick smile, before ducking his head down to allow Elonat to touch his cheek. Jim was met with the sensation of confusion and hunger, "You'll get something to eat soon, sweetie. The nice lady over there will bring us food in a little while," he gestured towards the waitress, who smiled at Elonat when the small boy turned his head to gaze at her.

Elonat hummed and tucked his face into the front of Jim's cardigan, prompting a coo from the waitress. Spock cleared his throat and ordered a kind of lasagne for himself, some kind of noodle thing for Jim and a plate of roasted vegetables and fries for Elonat, asking for three glasses of water after doing so. The waitress nodded as she jotted the order down, twirling around and walking away a moment later.

"What did you order for me?" Jim asked, kissing Elonat's short fingers in hopes of eliciting another giggle from the boy. It worked.

"Spaghetti topped with tomato sauce and roasted zucchini slices," Spock answered, putting away the menus with more care than necessary.

"Huh," Jim smiled, "Sounds good. What about you?"

"A simple vegetable lasagne. They use Vulcan spices in some of their recipes. It is one of the reasons why I prefer to come here instead of the other restaurants in the area," Spock tilted his head at Jim, then glanced down at Elonat, "I believe Miss O'Malley was very enamoured with Elonat."

"He's a real charmer, yeah," Jim kissed the boy's fluffy hair, grinning. "I bet he'll have the ladies and the guys drooling all over him when he's older. What do you think? And... how often do you come here that you know the waitress' name?"

"I cannot calculate the possibility efficiently enough to give you an estimate of what I think, Jim," Spock responded, reaching out to pull the salt shaker from Elonat's hand, placing it into a safer spot, away from the boy's curiosity-driven fingers, "I do not have the necessary data to do so. Also, I do not know her name, I merely read the nameplate attached to her shirt, Jim."

Jim felt his face grow warm and he grabbed onto Elonat's tiny hands to keep him from crawling onto the table to get to the shaker Spock had taken from him. Elonat gave a soft whine in response, but did not try to reach for the salt shaker again.

"You're no fun at all, Spock," Jim huffed, brushing the curly fringe away from Elonat's forehead, pressing a kiss to the side of the boy's head, just above the point of his ear, "Right, duckie? He's no fun at all."

"I believe you have not once called Elonat by the name I have given him. Instead, you continue to give him strange nicknames. Why is that?" Spock lifted an eyebrow at him, head tilting to one side.

Jim shrugged, "I don't know. It's my way of showing... uhm... adoration, I guess?"

Spock blinked twice in quick succession and turned his head away from Jim when their food arrived. The young waitress placed their glasses and plates onto the table, stepping away with a tiny wave towards Elonat. The boy returned the gesture, ducking his head when it conjured a smile onto the woman's face.

The food turned out to be delicious, and by the end of it Elonat had managed to cover his face and hands with the ketchup the little boy had requested to be added to his plate. Jim questioned himself for even asking the boy if he would like to try ketchup in the first place. It had clearly been one of his less than stellar ideas.

After spending about ten minutes in the restaurant's bathroom cleaning up a very uncooperative Elonat, Jim returned to find Spock had paid for their lunch. The Vulcan was already waiting by the door, holding their coats and the bags containing Elonat's clothing. Once both Elonat and Jim were fully dressed for the weather outside, they left the restaurant to make their way towards one of the grocery stores located along the shopping street.

Jim had thought Spock would be more helpful now, but oh, was he wrong.

While Elonat was at least doing his version of 'helping', meaning, collecting everything that had the colours green and red for some reason, Spock did nothing but follow them. Jim was pushing the cart, getting increasingly annoyed by the stoic Vulcan's inability to even prevent Elonat from reaching for the yogurt for the third time.

"Spock," Jim huffed, "A little help here?"

"Of course," Spock hefted Elonat out of the shopping cart and into his arms, now juggling both the shopping bags and the little boy.

Jim lifted an eyebrow. Alright, that solved the problem, too. Sighing, he strolled down the aisles, plucking vegetables and fruits off the displays to inspect them before placing them into the cart after weighing them. Elonat had taken to rest against Spock's shoulder, eyes wide as he observed the brightly lit store around him.

"Is it okay if I buy stuff to make cookies with? Not with chocolate, of course," Jim asked as he placed three cartons of milk into the cart, followed by a pack of eggs, "I'll do it anyway, no matter what your answer is, by the way. I'm just asking because my Mom said that's the polite thing to do."

Spock was silent for a long moment then exhaled a long breath that might have counted as a sigh, "I see. Then I give you my permission to buy what you please, Jim. As long as it is necessary and does not make me question your sanity."

"You're already questioning my sanity. I could practically taste the 'not more than I already do' that you wanted to tack onto that last part," Jim threw a bright grin into Spock's direction and added another carton of eggs, just to be sure.

"I do hope that you are not expecting an answer to your statement," Spock responded, hitching Elonat higher up in a movement that made Jim wonder if he had practice holding a child or if it just came naturally to the Vulcan.

Like, for example, looking sexy in a bowl cut and working that ridiculous, knitter sweater Spock was wearing beneath his jacket. Where did one buy these anyway? Was that standard wear on Vulcan? Jim would not be surprised. The bowl cut thing alone should have been an indicator that their fashion sense would not make a lot of sense either.

Shaking his head, Jim turned his eyes away to inspect the row of cereals they passed, "Elonat seems a lot less scared. He was so shy at first... does that have anything to do with the shields you built him?"

Spock tilted his head ever so slightly forward, "Indeed. The shields are helping his mind recover from the trauma faster. It is a method that has been used among my people for a long time and the basics are taught to every child due to the fact that our minds are not only our greatest strength, but also our biggest weakness. A Vulcan's brain is not easily broken, but once it is, it is often impossible to repair it."

Jim huffed, "That sounds terrible. Alright, I think we got everything."

He moved towards the check-out counter, glancing backwards every so often to see if Spock was still there with Elonat. The little boy had grown on him and Jim was still taken aback by how much the little boy had come to mean to him in so little time. It seemed mutual, seeing as Elonat kept looking at him as the little boy chewed at his own thumb, causing flecks of drool to dribble onto the front of Elonat's shirt.

Jim held his arm out for Elonat once he had piled the groceries onto the conveyor belt. Spock handed the boy over and proceeded place the scanned groceries back into the cart before paying. Somehow, they managed to pack everything into various smaller bags and left the supermarket. Jim felt a little bad about letting Spock carry both the bag holding Elonat's new clothes and the grocery bag, but then again, Spock had not complained yet and he _was _three times stronger than a Human. Or something.

"Alright, we're going to get Elonat some toys and then we can go back home," Jim declared, kissing Elonat's curls when the boy gave a soft sound of delight.

The toy store was huge. Jim did not think he had ever seen so many toys in one place before. Neither had Elonat it seemed; the boy had begun to wiggle, the hand which was not being gnawed on reaching out towards the colourful displays.

The next hour was spent collecting toys, Spock keeping up a constant commentary about the usefulness of building blocks and learning programs for the PADD. Jim nodded along, humming when it was needed and breathing out a sigh of relief when they reached the check-out point.

Jim waited for Spock to place the things they had collected onto the conveyor belt. Adding the few he had carried himself, Jim noticed the relatively large, soft looking stuffed toy Spock had settled down on the conveyor belt. It was a lion, complete with a soft, fluffy mane and big, flopping paws. Suppressing a grin, Jim watched as Spock paid and gathered their shopping into another large bag before holding the lion out to Elonat after he had removed the tag on its ear.

Elonat grabbed the lion with a soft squeak, pressing the toy against his face. Jim smiled, looking up at Spock, chuckling when the Vulcan ducked his head a little and turned around to walk out of the store.

Apparently, Spock was a marshmallow underneath that granite exterior.

Eyes narrowing with suppressed laughter, Jim hurried after the Vulcan. This was definitely going to be a very interesting day.

They made their way back to Spock's car, put the shopping bags into the trunk and Jim grimaced when he noticed the greenish colour of Spock's hands, "You okay? I could have carried some of those bags, you know?"

"I am alright," Spock flexed his long fingers a few times, meeting Jim's eyes, "You were carrying Elonat."

"And you were carrying eleven shopping bags," Jim drawled, "I don't see your point."

Spock lifted an eyebrow, "You would have needed to release Elonat with one arm to carry the bags, which means, that the danger of him squirming out of your hold, would have been heightened."

Jim snorted, "I can hold a two year old child and a few bags, Spock. He's not that heavy."

"This discussion is irrelevant now, Jim. I have carried the bags, they are now in the trunk of my car," Spock shut said trunk, moving towards the front of the car to climb in behind the wheel.

Jim grumbled, opening the backdoor of the car to settle Elonat into his seat and buckle the boy in before he shut the door and got in on the front passenger side, "Alright. I probably would have dropped one of those bags anyway. I'm lucky like that."

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him, "Is there a story behind your statement?"

"I once managed to drop a bag full of eggs and milk after stepping out of the supermarket," Jim grinned, "Mom wasn't happy."

"Which is, of course, not surprising," Spock answered as he started the car, "Please, buckle your seatbelt, Jim."

"Oh," Jim did as he was told, offering a sheepish grin, "Sorry. I sometimes forget. So, anything you'd like for dinner? Is there anything Elonat's not supposed to eat? Anything you're not supposed to eat? I know most Vulcans are vegetarian, which I have absolutely no problem with. Mostly because the only meat I can eat without bursting out into a disgusting rash is chicken, but I can live without that, too."

Spock sat up a tad straighter, "You enjoy talking."

"...Yeah. And since you're not particularly talkative, I have to talk even more! Now, do I get an answer?"

"As you have said, most Vulcans are vegetarian. Elonat is safe to eat everything but chocolate and, should you think about cooking with cinnamon, it would be prudent not to add too much of it to his plate," Spock said, manoeuvring the car around the next corner.

Jim nodded, "Say, since we've named him, do we have to get him legal documents? Do you have to contact Vulcan for that?" he frowned, "How does that even work? I have no idea, I swear, if I ever end up living alone, I'll be calling Bones and my Mom 24/7."

"That does, indeed, sound dangerous," Spock replied and Jim narrowed his eyes at the even drier delivery of the response.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny. Please, continue to make fun of me," Jim grumbled.

"Vulcans do not 'make fun of' others."

Spock's voice had gone quiet and Jim wondered if maybe some Vulcans did make fun of others. Thinking it better not to ask, Jim shrugged, "If you say so. You still didn't give me an answer, though! What do you want to eat for dinner?"

"I will be satisfied with whatever you decide to cook, Jim."

Jim huffed and turned around in his seat to look at Elonat to see if their discussions had disturbed him. The little boy was looking at the lion in his arms, smoothing one of his hands over the toy's fluffy mane, brows furrowed in concentration. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Jim sat back down properly again to address Spock once more, "You're the worst. Can't you just tell me what you like? I'm sure there's something. You can't find every damn thing you eat to be 'acceptable'."

"Jim, I will not discuss this with you. I have told you my answer. Please accept it."

"I won't accept it, because it's stupid! I want to make this entire thing as comfortable as possible for everyone and I need you to cooperate!"

"Jim, lower your voice, you are being illogical. I am Vulcan and thus do not prefer one kind of food over the other. You know this."

"That's bullshit."

"It is not. You must learn to accept other cultures, Kirk."

"You should-!"

A soft sound from the backseat made them both stop and Jim scrambled around once again to look at Elonat. The little boy had frozen in his seat, both hands clamped over his ears, the lion draped over his knees. Jim reached out, touching Elonat's arm. The boy flinched and Jim could practically feel his heart crumble into tiny, tiny pieces within his chest.

Elonat curled away from Jim's fingers and Jim moved back into his former position, swallowing at the thought of him raising his voice like that might have done to Elonat's, at the moment, fragile psyche. Spock was quiet, too, shoulders tense as he gripped the steering wheel. The rest of the drive was done in silence, broken only by the almost inaudible sniffling coming from the backseat.

And the day had started out so well.

Jim was out of the car as soon as Spock had parked it close to the entrance of the ridiculously expensive apartment complex the Vulcan lived in. Moving towards the back, Jim opened the door on Elonat's side and crouched down to look at the boy's face.

"Sweetie?" he said softly, "I'm sorry I got loud. Elonat? Please look at me. I'm sorry."

The boy lowered his hands, looking up at Jim with wide, watering eyes. Jim curled his lips into a soft smile, hoping to calm the shivering child down a little more. Carefully, he reached out again and touched his thumb to the boy's soft cheek, rubbing at the tear tracks marring the skin.

Ignoring Spock as he unloaded the trunk of the car, Jim proceeded to speak to Elonat, coaxing the boy into allowing him to unbuckle his seat and pulling him out of the car into his arms. The lion was trapped between Elonat's tiny body and Jim's shoulder, tickling Jim's chin as he shut the car door. Spock had slammed the trunk shut and locked the car, and was now moving towards the entry door to the apartment complex.

As they ascended the staircase towards Spock's apartment, Elonat's sniffling became less frequent and the little boy tucked his wet face against Jim's throat. Spock unlocked the door to his apartment, stepping aside to let Jim pass through first before following.

Jim slipped out of his shoes, tugged his jacket off and sat Elonat down onto the commode to divest the child of his own little boots and the coat he was wearing. Elonat's eyes followed Jim's every movement and Jim wondered if the smiles and giggling the boy had uttered beforehand had been some kind of relief reaction. Like those that one experienced when they find out they could have died.

Jim hefted Elonat back into his arms to carry him over to the couch, sitting down with a tiny huff. The boy did not even stir, but he was clutching the lion with his stubby fingers as if his life depended on it. Breathing out a helpless sigh, Jim listened to Spock unpacking the bags, putting away groceries, setting the folded clothes on the kitchen table and placing the toys into a corner of the living room for later.

For a long while, the only sound was the large clock ticking away close by the staircase.

"Elonat," Jim prompted, meeting the boy's eyes when he looked up, "I'm really sorry, alright? Do you understand me? I didn't mean to get loud. Spock and I were just being idiots. I was being an exceptionally big idiot."

Elonat frowned, one stubby hand reaching out to touch Jim's cheek.

For a moment, Jim was caught within a swirl of foggy impressions of emotions. The ones he was able to pick out were fear, apprehension and a slight glimmer of hope.

Jim touched his ow

* * *

n palm to the back of Elonat's hand, "I'll try not to yell anymore, okay?"

Elonat nodded and released his lion to rub at his eyes. Jim cooed, using his own sleeve to wipe away the tear tracks, jumping where he sat when Spock's elegant hand reached past his ear and touched Elonat's temple. The boy sniffled, eyelids drooping when Spock pulled away again, but Jim was relieved to see the beginnings of a smile on the child's lips.

"What did you do?" Jim whispered softly.

"I have told him that I am... displeased by the fact that we have caused him to feel afraid by getting carried away in our discussion," Spock answered.

Jim nodded and turned his head, "I'm sorry, you know? I get a little... well. I don't know. I'm still sorry, though."

"It is of no matter. I realise that I can be... difficult to work with. While I will not turn away from Vulcan customs, I see that I will need to compromise to create an environment where Elonat will be comfortable," Spock inclined his head, "I apologise, too, for not being willing to cooperate."

Jim grinned, relieved, "It's okay. I mean... I knew the day was going too well. It was only a matter of time before something happened. I'm just glad Elonat's not... suffering from flashbacks or something... is that a possibility?"

"I am uncertain. The mind healer will be able to tell us more. For now, we should avoid causing him unnecessary stress," Spock answered, keeping his voice low.

Jim glanced at Elonat, finding him half-asleep, one thumb seated firmly within his mouth. Smiling, Jim moved, settling the boy onto the couch between two large pillows. Elonat gave a tiny huff and curled up, sighing when the blanket that had been lying on the armrest of the couch was tucked in around him by Spock.

Before getting up, Jim leaned down to kiss Elonat's forehead, moving away a moment later to address Spock, "I'll start dinner now, is that okay? We don't have to eat it yet, but I want it to be done when Elonat wakes up."

Spock nodded and, to Jim's surprise, followed him into the kitchen. Jim opened the fridge and looked at Spock, "Are you thirsty?"

"No. But I would like to offer my assistance," Spock answered, moving his hands behind his back in a gesture that Jim began to understand was something akin to a display of uncertainty.

Jim felt another smile bloom on his face, feeling a little giddy, "I'd like that. You're okay to use a knife, right? Of course you are. Could you peel and cut two onions? You don't need to cut them into neat cubes or anything, just try not to chop your fingers of."

Spock lifted an eyebrow, but reached around Jim to pluck two onions from one of the drawers located in the bottom of the fridge. Jim grinned and bumped his hip against Spock's, laughing when he received a small, confused glare for his troubles.

* * *

What a shitty ending *headdesk* Sorry! Ugh.


End file.
